Knight of Gotham: Laughing has its Downsides
by Kuraun14
Summary: This will be the first of a series. Batman begins his journey, with a mysterious man watching over every move he makes. Several character designs are different, as well as origins. Rated T for violence, drug content, and some disturbing elements. I will be publishing new chapters every Wednesday. Watch for my next story, Raze, Part 1 (projected rating: M for graphic violence)!
1. Chapter 1

Knight of Gotham: Smiling has its Downsides

CHAPTER I

I still remember that night down to the last detail. It was just me and my parents, seeing a movie for my birthday. It was two days after my actual birthday… if only it wasn't. Maybe it was some cruel twist of fate that caused us to go out through that alley. Maybe it was just idiocy on our part. Either way, the result can't be changed.

The guy seemed harmless enough at first. We just figured he would ignore us. WHY did we ever think that? Again, it seems cruel. Because then he pulled out a gun. Now that I think back on it, it might have been a Magnum. He demanded for money. My dad tossed him his wallet. We thought it would stop there.

But it didn't. The guy demanded for jewelry. My mom gave him her pearls, earrings, bracelets, and rings. We thought it would stop there. But it didn't. It stopped when the guy looked over his shoulder as if he was looking for someone. The funny thing is, I thought I saw someone too. Then the guy pulled the trigger. Twice. Ten feet from my parents. Each bullet went right through. I still think, "Would it have been better if all three of us died that night?"

It would've saved me from the very image that haunts my waking mind to this day. The image of the bullets piercing the bodies of Martha and Thomas Wayne, their blood spurting on the walls, on the ground, and…on me. Some went up my nose.

He didn't shoot me. He ran off. I screamed. I screamed for fifteen minutes, maybe in some vain hope that it would wake my parents up. Only 3 hours later did a patrolling police officer discover me, still crying silently, stricken, over my parents. He said he was Jim Gordon, and asked my name. I of course replied that I was Bruce Wayne. Jim called in some other officers to help set up a crime scene.

Jim offered to take me home. I accepted, and in twenty-five minutes, I was back at Wayne Manor. I was greeted by my faithful butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Then he noticed the police officer. Jim assumed a solemn expression, one I have yet to see matched. I wasn't really paying attention to what he said. All I knew was that Alfred was in tears. I had never seen Alfred crying until that day.

That night, the only things that emerged from my mind were the red streams exploding out of my parents. I can see them there, being propelled backwards by the bullets. It was that night that convinced me that this city was broken. Living in such a big mansion my entire life, I had no idea what it was like in the lower parts of Gotham. The days at my house seemed longer, and darker. The sound of cheerful laughter didn't come from the dank halls.

Alfred made up for it though. He always helped me when I got hurt. He always made me the best birthday cake. And most frequently, he comforted me when I ran inside, away from some bat. I hated the fuzzy little freaks. It was a relationship reminiscent of that between Indiana Jones and snakes. They lived in a cave located on the grounds.

There was one thing he couldn't protect me from, though. I was 14. I decided to take a walk that day, due to a nightmare the previous night. I eventually wandered into one of the more seedy areas of Gotham, about a block from Arkham Asylum. Two guys approached me. They recognized me as Bruce Wayne. The taller one of the two looked at me and said, "You see that?" I looked at the other guy. He was obviously stoned. I nodded. The taller guy continued, "That, my good man, is the high produced by our experimental form of heroin. It makes you feel happy for hours on end. Not only that, but it can substitute bad memories for good ones. That effect is the reason you will love this. We call it Halcyon."

Of course, I'd always been told to stay away from any kind of drug my whole life. But I felt as if it was the only way to get rid of the pain. There was one corner of my mind, screaming _EVERYBODY HEARD ABOUT YOUR PARENTS DYING! THESE GUYS ARE TRYING TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT! _I didn't care at the time. And so it went. I arrived home with a single shot of Halcyon. I tried it. It felt heavenly. I forgot that night, and just imagined myself hugging my parents, telling them how much I've missed them. But in a couple of hours, I returned to the desolate state I'd been in before.

The next day, I went back to those guys, and got more. I stuck myself again. I felt happy again. And then I fell back into Hell. It was a vicious cycle, and all of it involved lying to Alfred. He knew something was wrong, but I was stupid enough not to tell him.

It made school harder than it already was. I was high in the middle of class, at lunch, even in after-school clubs! I got moved from school to school, and even though I was a smart kid, the Halcyon did nothing for me in the long run.

My vicious cycle ended when I was 18. I overdosed on Halcyon. It shocked me into realizing how broken my _life_ was. I decided to travel, to get away. After months of what could _at most_ have been called rambling, I landed in Japan. I liked the peaceful atmosphere up in the mountains. I met a man by the name of Kirigi. He taught me how to defend myself, after, of course, beating me up and telling me I had "great potential". He taught me other things, like different healing methods from around Japan. He even taught me all the things I would've learned in college. It had an overall beneficial effect. I came back when I turned 29. My arrival exploded all over the Internet and the news. I discovered that in my absence, Wayne Enterprises had been slightly declining. I took the position of CEO, but it felt really unfulfilling. So, I put my dad's old friend Lucius Fox in the position instead. Things calmed down for a couple weeks.

About six months before my 30th birthday, Alfred came to me and said, "The man who killed your parents has been caught. His name is Joe Chill…Master Wayne, he said that he would only speak to you. The next time he gets to speak to anyone is Wednesday." I thought about it. Would Chill just mock me? Would he grovel for forgiveness? I had no idea. But I found myself saying, "Alright, I'll speak to him."

When Wednesday came, I felt nervous, because the guy who killed my parents would be within make-out distance of me in a few minutes. At the same time, I was nervous because the guy who killed my parents would be within strangling distance of me in a few minutes. As I sat down at the table, the same raggedy wretch that I saw almost twenty years ago was in front of me again.

Chill began, "I'm not going to ask forgiveness. I just want you to know what happened that night." I felt fury well up inside me. "I already know what happened," I said. "You killed my parents, you coward! You already had what you asked for! Why didn't you just leave?" I found myself crying. I felt the same way I did all those years ago: confused, angry, missing my parents. Chill looked at the floor and continued. "You don't think I feel sorry," said Chill. "Well, I do. You know, I grew up without parents too. At least, without real ones. I was a foster kid. You don't know how much I didn't want to put another kid through that." My anger multiplied. "It seemed to come pretty easily to you that night," I said. "Look," said Chill, "They had my foster parents. They said they would kill them if I didn't do it." I didn't know how to respond. On the one hand, I was still mad. How could he kill them, even if his parents were being threatened? On the other hand, how couldn't he?

I was still stuck on this internal debate when Chill started talking again. "You know," he said, "the guys who made me do it, I overheard them talking about other people. I only caught a few names, but I wrote them down." He slid a folded piece of paper across the table. I unfolded it. There were four names. I recognized the first one: Harvey Dent. I heard that he'd become the D.A. while I was gone. The second name, I'd never heard of: Bane. It was simple, yet frightening. The third name I knew as a local college professor: Dr. Jonathan Crane. He teaches psychology. The final name had pretty much no effect on me: Solomon Grundy. It just seemed like the name of some average guy, which raised a question.

"What's the significance of these names?" I asked. "I don't know," replied Chill shakily. "What I do know, Bruce, is that you have to keep your eye on them, and if you can, stop them." "Who are they?" I asked aggressively. "I don't know that either," said Chill. "The truth is, I don't really want to know." A guard walked up and said, "Alright, inmate, time to go back to your cell." I left that day with Chill's plead. Stop them, he said. _I will, _I thought.

Now I've woken up. It was all a dream, recounting all the events of my life thus far. I reached over to my bedside table, picking up the paper that Chill gave me. I had to know what these names meant. I wanted to honor my parents by taking down the people who killed them. My mission began that day. Little did I know where it would take me.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

It started with a scouring of the public records. Since I already knew who Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane were, all I needed to know was the identities of Bane and Solomon Grundy. Bane seemed like he might be more significant. I looked him up. He wasn't from Gotham. That made the search harder. It took a lot of digging, but I found that Bane was a guy who was born in a Mexican prison. His mother was a guard, and she was raped. She died giving birth. Before she died, she named him Perdición. That translates to Bane. The funny thing was, there was no last name. They had a current picture of Bane. He was a skinny guy, not at all what you'd expect someone named Bane to look like. _He _can't _be a big threat, _I thought. He had no record. He had good grades. I couldn't see why these people would want him. Then again, looks could be deceiving.

After that, it was child's play to find Solomon Grundy. _This _one was even more puzzling than Bane. Why? Because ol' Solomon died in '94 at the age of 68. The only other things they had on him were a couple of D.U.I.s, but that didn't seem to be of any consequence. I got wrapped up in this whole thing, wondering what any of these guys had to do with the people who killed my parents. Maybe they wanted Crane to use my past against me. Maybe he wanted Dent to wage some kind of propaganda war. Any motives they could have for wanting Bane or Grundy escaped me.

Eventually I decided that if this wasn't getting me anywhere, I should find a job. That's why I went to the HQ of the Gotham Police Department. After getting through all the hurdles involved with getting into a police force, I finally began my stay at the academy.

I graduated top of my class. I was excited to start police work. It started out great. We stopped a few thefts here, solved a couple homicides there. But then, one event changed everything.

It was a hostage situation. The guy had people inside his house, threatening to kill them if his demands weren't met. I saw that the guy was obviously nervous. There were two possible outcomes if we went inside the house: he would either start firing immediately, or the shock would be enough to stop him from doing so for a few seconds. Neither one occurred, because the captain on duty didn't want to take any chances. We got the guy with no casualties, but I figure that it could've been over faster.

So I quit. Their methods were too cautious. I wanted to take chances. That's the only way I would stop these people. I went back to discovering all I could about the people on the list. Dent was spotless. Crane only had one small point of interest. According to his students, he was also an amateur chemist.

I started to despair. The police didn't work, the info on the names didn't work. I fell into a slight depression. It got worse when I saw something on the news: another kid had seen his parents killed. The victims were Frank and Mary Grayson. They left behind a son, Dick. He was only sixteen when it happened. Apparently, his parents were beaten to death by a crime boss after Frank and Mary refused to pay them money. Dick said he hid behind a sign, and saw the whole thing. On the news, he looked like me, all those years ago, a kid who just lost his parents to the evil in this city. And the story after that didn't do me any favors, either.

The night before, a jewelry store had been robbed by some guy calling himself the Red Hood. The name was scarier than the man himself. The only thing that seemed to indicate such a name was a red ski mask he wore. _What a nuisance, _I thought.

Alfred had just entered the room. I asked him, "Alfred, why do you think this city is so broken?" Alfred thought about it. He sighed and said, "I can tell you honestly, Master Wayne, that I've no earthly idea. I suppose there wouldn't be any point to us learning, would there?" "Yeah, I guess not," I said. Then I had a thought. "Alfred," I said, "the police didn't work out for me, so…what if I…with all my training…protected the city myself?" Alfred was taken aback. "I don't see why you should endanger yourself, Master Wayne," said Alfred. I laughed. "But Alfred," I said, "I'm OK with that. If I have to give my life trying to save this city, then I will." Alfred seemed flustered. "Bruce," he said, "if you do this, don't expect any help from me." I looked straight at him and grinned. "Alfred," I said, "I'm not sure I'd want such an old man fighting crime. It might not be good for your joints." Alfred rolled his eyes. "You should be glad I'm your butler," he said.

I searched on eBay for anything that would help me wage a war on the crime in this city. Of course, the list had to include some kind of disguise, so I bought a black ski mask. Along with that, I bought climbing gloves, combat boots, cargo pants, and a tactical vest, all in black. I went to town on any training dummy I could find.

One day while I was training on one of these said dummies, Alfred came to me with a suggestion that would change the course of my little crusade. "Master Wayne," he said, "Although I'd rather you not do this, shouldn't you come up with some kind of name?" "A name?" I asked.

Alfred sighed. "Well," he said, as if I was a blithering idiot, "you can't very well just jump out at these rogues and say, 'I'm Bruce Wayne!'" I stopped hitting the dummy for a few seconds. "That's actually a valid point," I said. "Good thinking, Alfred." I went back to hitting the dummy. "How about, uh…the Crusader," I said. Alfred shook his head. "I don't think that'll work at all," said Alfred. "The name has to make the criminal fear you. What about Batman, Master Bruce?" I stopped hitting the dummy again, this time regarding _Alfred _as the blithering idiot. "Batman? OK, Alfred, seriously, what the heck kind of name is that? I know I can't tell them my name, but I wouldn't feel any better saying, 'I am the Batman! Fear me! Urrrrrr!'" I laughed. "Sorry, Alfred, but I don't think that would work. Besides, you _know _I hate them." "Alright, fine," said Alfred as he left the room, "But I just thought that since they were your childhood fear, maybe you could find a way to turn that fear onto your enemies. What would you like for dinner, Master Wayne?" I thought about it. "I haven't had a good pizza in a while," I responded. As Alfred walked away, I was deep in thought. _Batman. _Meh.

Two weeks later, I went out into the streets of Gotham for the first time in my…uh…costume, we'll go with costume. But this wasn't a mission to find a criminal. I still had a lot to prepare before I started attempting anything like that. This was to hone my skills with a grappling hook (courtesy of Lucius Fox. When asked, I said it was for rock climbing. Did he believe me?). I found a nice warehouse where I could swing from the rafters. "Alrighty then," I said while swinging the grappling hook. It took me several tries to get it to one of the rafters. The warehouse had a lot of crates, giving me materials to build a place to swing from and to swing to.

After building these makeshift staircases, I got up on the first one, tugged on the rope to make sure it was secure, and swung. The adrenaline rush was glorious, better than Halcyon could ever have been. It was this moment that I _knew _this was the right choice.

Unfortunately, I missing the landing, and swung back and forth for a few minutes (just in case you're wondering why Kirigi didn't teach me anything on this subject, he didn't believe in such things). Frustrated, I started yelling in gibberish, along with a few curses.

I stopped when I heard someone outside. I checked, but I didn't see anyone. After that I realized I should be more careful. I tried again, this time restraining my urge to yell.

I mounted up on the crates and swung. This time I made it, but I had too much forward momentum and fell off, breaking my wrist and almost my face. I pulled out my phone. "Alfred," I said, "Can you pick me up? I can't feel the right side of my face."

After getting home and getting bandages, I decided I should do something entertaining to take my mind off of things. At first I attempted to play Halo, but despite my frequent bragging, it turns out I _can't _take out a Brute Chieftain playing with one hand. "Why do you play that silly game, Master Wayne?" asked Alfred when he walked in. "I personally believe Call of Duty is better." "Are we really going to start this?" I asked. I saw Alfred smile. "Oh, I see what you're doing, you sly dog, psyching me out, huh?" I said, also smiling. "Ah, whatever, I guess I'll see if there's anything good on TV."

I turned the TV on to the news. There wasn't that much, apparently. One of the first bits, though, was a guy who claimed to hear a ghost yelling and cursing in a warehouse. I suppose I can't ever train _there _again. Of course, there was more news of the Red Hood. This time he broke into some city official's house. _I'm going after this guy first, _I thought. But then, the news anchor announced a headline that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end: "GOTHAM PRISONER JOE CHILL MURDERED." I kept watching in grim fascination. The anchor came back up and said, "The next few images should NOT be seen by our more sensitive viewers." The sight that followed made my stomach lurch: Chill's neck had been slashed, and his blood was used to write this on the cell wall: "STOP LOOKING".


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER III

I was shocked. They had gotten to him. It was that moment that I realized just how dangerous these people were. Alfred looked on in horror. "Now, who would kill someone in such a monstrous way, and why?" he said. "Dead men tell no tales," I said. I left without saying another word, leaving a puzzled Alfred.

Questions swirled in my mind. _How did they get into Arkham? Why did they kill him now, and not before he met with me? Do they need _me _for something? _ I had no valid answer.

For some strange reason, this turn of events didn't discourage me. It spurred me on. Of course, I couldn't do anything with a broken wrist. So I waited. Through the weeks that it took for my wrist to heal, the Red Hood got away with more and more robberies. He seemed to be getting better at pulling these things off, but not much better.

Though this irked me, I still had to prepare just a little bit more. After my wrist healed, I got the grappling hook down (I found another warehouse), but I still needed some kind of long-range weapon. I went to Lucius Fox again. When I got there, I asked Lucius, "Hey, do you have any boomerangs, or anything like that?" Lucius looked at me and smirked. "Is this for rock climbing, too, Bruce?" he said. I paused, taken off guard. "Um…" I said. Lucius sighed. "Bruce," he said, "I respected your father and I respect you. That means I won't pry into whatever you're doing with all this." I looked at him. "How could you respect me?" I asked. "You're Lucius Fox, inventor and CEO of Wayne Enterprises. And then there's me, Bruce Wayne, rich but seemingly lazy, and a former drug addict!"

Lucius was even more serious now. "Yes," he said, "But you got past all of that junk. And besides, if you were lazy, how is it that you look like you could snap me in half?" I looked down at my arms. _I do look pretty good, don't I? _I laughed. I stopped myself and said, "Lucius, even if you're not going to pry, I'm going to tell you. I…am going to try and protect the entirety of Gotham under the guise of a hero named…I haven't decided on the name yet, actually." Lucius smiled, then doubled over laughing. I joined in. Amidst violent convulsions due to this, I said, "Yeah, it sounds kind of stupid when I say it out loud, huh?" Lucius stopped. "Wait, you're serious?" he asked. I stopped too and looked at him a little indignantly. "Well, yeah," I said.

Lucius nodded. "Okay," he said. "Seriously?" I said. "Just like that, you accept that I'm going to be beating up Gotham's criminal underground?" "I may as well," said Lucius. "It's not like I'd be able to stop you." I felt a sense of gratitude toward Lucius. "So," I said, "about those boomerangs." "Ah," said Lucius, "They're not quite like boomerangs, but they should serve your purpose. Come with me." I followed. Eventually we came upon sheets of metal. "This, my friend," said Lucius, "is a modified form of steel that is designed to have virtually no drag in the air. They should help you. You can make them into not a boomerang, but more like a blunt throwing knife. And since you have that grappling hook, I've got something more compact." We walked deeper into the building, shortly arriving at a shelf with a small gun. "The grappling hook you have right now is a bit cumbersome, don't you think?" said Lucius. "Yeah, I guess," I said. Lucius continued, "It shoots individual grappling hooks that can be detached once fired. Do you want to try it out?" "Sure," I said. Lucius handed me the gun.

I found a nice rafter to shoot at. After firing the grappling hook, I successfully swung on it. "There is one more feature," said Lucius. "What?" I asked. "Push the button," he said. He frantically added, "But don't hold on!" I had already pushed the button, though. I found myself being pulled to the ceiling. I swung to a nearby set of shelves and detached the grappling hook.

When I got down, Lucius said, "Now, that's all I can give you right now. It'll take a few days to make something out of that metal. Meanwhile, I guess you could start protecting this place." Lucius smiled.

That night, I decided it would be best to begin, after all. I needed more info before I could start with the Red Hood. I suited up and headed to the police HQ. Not many people were there, so it was relatively easy to sneak through the window in the commissioner's office. Apparently, though, I didn't do a good enough job of sneaking. The commissioner had his gun out. He stepped out of the shadows, and I saw a face that was aged, but definitely the same one as the man who took me home over 20 years ago.

"Gordon?" I said, surprised. "Yeah, that's my name," said Jim. "What's it to you?" I thought of an answer, and none came to me. I panicked. I then proceeded to lunge forward, knock the gun from Jim's hand, and punch him in the face. "Sorry, Jim," I said. I searched his office for something, anything, on the Red Hood's operation.

I turned the place inside out, looking over and over again. Jim stirred, and I knew I didn't have much time. I looked one more time, and found a couple of files concerning the Red Hood. I didn't have time to look it over at the police HQ, so I quickly headed home.

Upon arriving, I went inside to see about these files. The first one had info on the Red Hood and his gang. The Red Hood's real name hadn't been found out yet, but there was solid info on his henchmen.

The first one was Masashi Ryukyu. He was a former member of the Japanese gang called the Katana. He was excommunicated from the group after various failings. The second was Harold Barren. He was a former soldier who came back with PTSD. Both of these guys started going around with Red Hood after they all met in a bar. The third was Joseph Wellsley. He was a Brit whose hobby was taking out rich people with a sniper rifle. He got in league with the Red Hood when, after coming to the U.S., was caught. The Red Hood, Barren, and Ryukyu intercepted his transport to Arkham, freeing him.

All these guys were experts, which raised a question: _why hasn't the Red Hood and his gang gone for bigger targets? _I was bewildered. But I had to take a look at the other file. It contained all the records of his robberies. There were a few injuries here and there, but no deaths. That could've been one reason for his holding off. A smaller and less important building means less people, and less people means fewer casualties. It could've been that the Red Hood didn't want to kill anybody.

The second file also contained details of an undercover cop who was put into the Red Hood's gang 5 days ago. He had recently discovered that the next robbery was going to be a small bank near a chemical plant owned by a company called Augere, Inc. That detail didn't seem significant at the time, but it would that very night: the night of the robbery.

I managed to perch myself on the roof of the bank (after 15 minutes of annoying finagling with the grappling gun; I still wasn't used to it). The Red Hood showed up 5 minutes later, getting in and getting out in 5 more minutes. In that time, the undercover officer stole the getaway car and called the police. I knew they would be there too late. So I dropped down from the roof, just as the Red Hood came out with his henchmen.

The Red Hood just stared at me for a second. He finally said, "Who the heck are you?" I frantically searched my mind for some name, but only one popped into my head. "I'm…Batman," I said. The Red Hood started laughing. "Get him, boys," he said. Ryukyu rushed me, which I responded to with a punch to the gut. At the same time, I nailed Wellsley with a kick in the head. Finally, Barren nearly took off my head with a bullet. I body-slammed him, taking him down and punching him repeatedly. The Red Hood stood there, petrified.

He ran. "Oh, no, you don't!" I shouted. I chased him down the street. Eventually, we came across an alley, which the Red Hood attempted to go through. A car suddenly blocked his path, causing him to go further down the street, towards the chemical plant. Any alley we came across was blocked immediately by a black car. I didn't have time to wonder about these, though.

We ended up at the chemical plant. Vats filled with a strange green liquid were directly inside. I had a bad feeling about them. The Red Hood ran inside. "No!" I shouted. But it did no good. The Red Hood went inside. He slammed the door and locked it, sealing his fate.

I ran in, with Batman standing outside, yelling at me to stop. I didn't. After closing the door, I felt jubilant and triumphant, until I heard someone coming into the room. He was dressed like a preacher and was wearing a gas mask. I heard hissing as well.

The man looked at me and said, "Do you hear that? I know you're wondering what it is, so I'll just tell you. The vats are being rapidly heated, which will eventually cause the chemical inside them to revert to its gaseous state. After that, there is nothing that will stop you from inhaling it. Oh, look at that, it's already there."

I could feel it. The gas enveloped me. I started laughing, without knowing why. I couldn't stop. The man looked on, seemingly satisfied. The last thought I had before blacking out was, _Only a clown would laugh this much._


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV

When the Red Hood closed the door, I ran up to it and kicked it several times. It was no use. Eventually, I heard demonic laughter emanating from behind the door. There was green gas coming from the chimneys. I yelled, "Hood, what's happening?!" The laughter had stopped by then, and no answer came. I didn't have time to get the door open, however, because I heard sirens coming. When I got back to Wayne Manor, Alfred ran up to me. "Master Wayne, are you all right?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "I don't know about the Red Hood, though."

The following day, the Red Hood was in Arkham. I was watching the news when I heard. Camera footage of the Red Hood being led into Arkham was shown. I'd never seen him without the mask before that. He had a thin face, a hawkish nose, and short brown hair. But there was one element that I know wasn't there when I first met him. He had a creepy smile on the entire time he was being escorted inside.

The news anchor began speaking about how the investigation into his real name, among other things, was deemed futile. There was literally nothing in any database about any part of the man's life. No name, no dental records, no driver's license. The anchor continued, saying that his behavior was more aggressive and erratic, meaning no one could tell what he would do next.

When he was assigned a cell, he happened to get Mr. Zsasz, a killer who cut tally marks into his own skin when he claimed another victim, as a cellmate. Apparently, the Red Hood introduced himself as the Joker, shook Zsasz's hand…and then he proceeded to kick him in the leg repeatedly, breaking it, after which he said, "And don't you forget it."

The subject of the Joker bothered me, so I decided to go back to where he began. When I reached the chemical plant, I noticed that there wasn't any gas coming from the chimneys like the night before. I went inside. I found the whole building to have literally nothing inside it. I mean, there was definitely dust, but beyond that, everything, every scrap that the police didn't pick up for evidence (which was about 99% of the place), was gone.

Also, when I got home the night before, I looked it up, and Augere, Inc. actually seemed to check out. The plant where I chased the Red Hood wasn't listed, though. _Odd, _I thought. I guess everybody ignored the plant because it was in a less frequented part of town.

Nothing happened in the next few days, allowing me to relax and think. Eventually, though, Lucius Fox gave me a call to tell me that he had the "boomerangs" ready. Excited, I went to him. When I got there, I was decidedly upset with the design at first. As I held one, I said, "You made these…in the shape…of bats?" Lucius smirked. "Well, considering you were the only one who could've been that "Batman" character those criminals on the news were talking about, I decided to create these 'batarangs'". "But I HATE BATS!" I said. "I didn't even come up with the name! It was Alfred's idea!" "I know," said Lucius. "But I think it would be a good name."

I sighed. "All right," I said, resigned to it, "What else do you have?" Lucius said, "I thought you'd never ask." As we walked, we came across a fridge. "So," continued Lucius, opening it, "that Red Hood guy…I heard he's in Arkham." "Yeah," I said, "But, uh, he prefers to be called the Joker now." "Do you think the chemicals in the plant messed with him?" Lucius asked. "Here," he added, handing me a bottle of Budweiser. I opened it, saying, "It's possible. I mean, he definitely isn't the same as when I first met him." Lucius took a swig from his bottle, and we proceeded. Soon, we came upon something that made me violently spit out my drink.

It was a suit that seemed to be constructed from Kevlar. The design was black and yellow, with a yellow bat in the midsection whose wings stretched to the shoulders. Following this, there was belt-like part of the suit that was also yellow. The belt had hooks on it. The gloves and boots had curved spikes. The boots and gloves had yellow trim, as well. Everything else was black. There were even spikes on the helmet that obviously represented ears. There was one thing missing, though.

"There's no cape," I said. "I didn't think it would be practical," said Lucius. "Well, maybe," I said, "But great superheroes always have capes." "What, like that Superman guy in Metropolis?" said Lucius, incredulous. "He can afford having a cape. Even if it got in his way, he's still bullet-proof. If _you _had a cape, and it got in _your _way, even if the suit is bullet-proof, _unlike _Superman, you're not." "It would still look cooler," I said. "Fine," said Lucius, "But on your head be it." I smiled. _Maybe Batman isn't such a terrible name after all,_ I thought. My phone went off.

"What is it?" asked Lucius. "Oh," I said. "My parents died at this time. I'm going to visit them. It's kind of a tradition for me." Lucius nodded, and I left.

I walked to the local florist (I walk everywhere) and bought a dozen roses. Afterwards, I walked to the local cemetery. I went to my parents graves. After laying down the roses, I started talking. "So," I began, "it's been a while. I haven't been doing much, and just in case you're wondering, Mom, I haven't found a girlfriend yet. But don't heckle me or anything. I'd rather you not knock over any lamps. You might give Alfred a heart attack." I laughed. Everything seemed okay. I was right there, with my parents.

I heard a voice behind me saying, "You talk to them?" It turned around to see Dick Grayson. "Yeah," I said. "Why?" he asked. I thought about how I would respond. I finally said, "I don't know. I guess it just makes me feel like they're still here." Dick said, "I don't think I could do that. I know they're dead, and I know there's nothing I can do about it." I looked at his face, closely this time.

He had dark circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, and a general aura of depression. "Well," I said, "that's true. They won't come back, no matter what. But let me ask you a question: did your parents love you?" "Yeah," he responded. "How do you know?" I said. "They always said so," he said. He started getting a smile on his face. "My mom would always kiss my forehead when I went to sleep until I turned twelve. But even after that, she would always sit down and ask me how my day went. My dad, he always took me out for pizza, once a month, just to have some guy talk. Sometimes we would laugh, sometimes we would cry. But it was always good."

Dick looked much better at this point. When he started up again, I could see the life in his eyes come back. "And when we went back to the circus and traveled around, my parents would be my best friends. I was never alone." "And did they know you loved them?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "Then just think about that, and I think you'll find yourself talking to them."

I looked back at my parent's graves and said, "You two kids have fun." As I left, Dick ran up to me and said, "Wait, how are you so happy when you see them?" I smiled and replied, "I'm not. But if I know one thing about my parents, it's that they would be very disappointed in me if I spent my time here just crying." Dick seemed to understand. I heard someone yell his name. "Oh," he said, "That'll be Mr. Geralds." "Who's that?" I asked. "He runs the orphanage," Dick replied. As Dick ran off, I thought, _Good luck out there. _

Roy was new on the job at Arkham. He was assigned to oversee the psychiatric sessions for the Joker. The presiding psychiatrist was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. When he first heard the name, Roy laughed. "What's so funny?" said the warden. "Her name," said Roy, "Harleen Quinzel. If you look at it, it's kind of like Harley Quinn, or harlequin." "Yeah, she gets that a lot. But don't say it, because at this point I think she's heard it enough."

Roy nodded and proceeded to the Joker's cell. Zsasz had since been moved. The Joker was sitting on a bench in front of the cell door. Quinzel spoke. "So, you're the Joker?" "I think you already know that, Blondie," said the Joker arrogantly. "What's your name?" "Harleen Quinzel," she responded. Joker raised his eyebrows. "Hey, if you cut off a few letters, you get…" Quinzel forcefully exhaled and said, "Harlequin, I know. Now, let's begin. Why do you call yourself the Joker?" The Joker looked prepared to respond to this. He launched into it, saying, "Because life…life is just a big joke. If you look at it, it's like a bad one, in fact. Because…a bad joke…doesn't make sense, and neither does the human life. And, and, a bad joke has a disagreeable punch line…in our case, death…that nobody wants to experience. But because the teller of the joke just wants to go on, he says it anyway, and you die. That is why I call myself the Joker." Roy saw how the analogy worked. The Joker laughed.

"Intriguing," said Quinzel. "Now, why did you break Zsasz's leg?" The Joker leaned forward and said, "Because I could. Also, he made some pretty funny sounds. When his bone cracked…oh, yeah, baby, he just exploded!" The Joker seemed elated. "He just sat there wailing!" The Joker was holding in a torrent of laughter. "I mean, if he was smart, he would've at least hidden, or something! It was almost pitiful!" The Joker stopped and zeroed in on Quinzel's face. He wolf-whistled. "Hey, Harley, you got some mighty fine eyes, there." Quinzel's face flushed. She didn't respond. Roy took a glance at her. Though she looked mostly repulsed, there was an almost alarming fascination in her eyes. The Joker laughed again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I WON'T BE ABLE TO POST CHAPTER V NEXT WEEK AS I WILL BE OUT OF TOWN. DON'T WORRY, I'LL BE BACK JULY FIFTH. BUT THE REST OF MY FAMILY WILL STILL BE HOME, SO NOBODY GET ANY IDEAS.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER V

Nothing especially important transpired in the few days after the Red Hood was taken to Arkham. Life seemed normal for the first time in a long time. One day, I was bored and asked Alfred, "Do you want to catch a movie, to ease the tension?" "What's in the theaters?" asked Alfred. I thought for a second. "Oh," I said, "American Hustle came out a couple of days ago." Alfred shook his head. "Is there anything with that Michael Caine fellow?" he asked. "I don't think so," I said. Alfred said, "No, not really, then." I sighed and walked back to my couch.

I laid down, wallowing in my inactivity. It felt like one of those montages in TV shows. You know the ones, where some character is lying down somewhere, and the clock above his head cuts to different times, and he's still there. Yeah, that's what my day was like. All I really did was periodically shift to different positions.

And then, finally, I got a call. It was Lucius, telling me to head to Wayne Enterprises. When I got there, I saw something awesome: the suit, slightly upgraded. Lucius had added a cape which, when spread, looked like bat wings. I looked at the wrists and saw a couple of contraptions that almost looked like guns. "What're these?" I asked. "These," said Lucius, "are grappling hooks. I figured you would ask me anyway eventually, so I put them on the wrists." I assumed an expression of approval and impression and said, "Cool."

Lucius laughed lightly. "Now," he said, "of course, we have to talk about a mode of transportation. I mean, you can't just walk everywhere." I nodded and said, "Actually, I've been thinking about that too. I have a candidate right outside." I walked out, and returned in my new jet black Lamborghini Aventador. Lucius stared at it for a few seconds and then performed a face-palm gesture. He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose and said, "Did you buy that specifically for this?" "Heck yeah," I said, pleased with myself. Lucius groaned even louder and lamented, "Bruce, compared to what we're going to need for something like protecting an entire city, this car would be better suited for driving Miss Daisy!"

I got out, held up my pointer finger, and said, "Yes, but only right now. I figure we can stick some armor and guns and such on this sucker, and then, BAM! Awesome car fit for a crime-fighter." Lucius looked at me incredulously and said, "Theoretically, yes, we can do that, but why not get something tougher?" "Because I've already spent almost half a million on this thing," I said. Lucius said, "Bruce, do you really think I have the time to do something like that?" I raised my eyebrows and replied, "Uh, yes." Lucius sighed and said, "Fine, I do. But it'll take a few weeks." "Perfect," I said. "Hey, can I take the suit home?" I added. "Sure," said Lucius. I went outside and yelled out to Alfred, who was waiting with my Rolls-Royce, "Alright, Alfred, I got me some new duds!" Alfred rolled his eyes.

Upon getting home, I tried on the suit for the first time. It was surprisingly comfortable, although I accidentally speared the mirror I was posing in with one of the grappling hooks. When Alfred saw it, he said, "So, you are going with Batman, then?" I shrugged and said, "I may as well." I guessed that Batman would stick anyway, and I'd need to have a look that completes it. I'd already decided that I would go out on my first crime-fighting experience. I prepared myself, and headed out into the streets of Gotham.

I watched the news even more carefully since I decided to start this little crusade. I'd recently heard about a guy named Dr. Hugo Strange. He was a scientist who had started to make a living selling enhanced crystal meth. Coming from my background, you can understand why I wanted to take this guy down. The police had already planned a sting op that night. Thank God for police scanners. Strange and his goons were holed up in a warehouse on the docks (why is it always the docks?), where their biggest lab was located.

Once again making my way to the roof with a grappling hook, I crouched over a skylight and saw the lab. The place was populated by about 30 henchmen, but they were spread out, which would make my job a whole lot easier. And then, I spotted him: Hugo Strange. He was rather unassuming, with a small frame, glasses, a turtleneck, and a grey beard. I thought about how I should approach the situation. I decided a bit of theatrics wouldn't hurt.

And so, I threw a batarang through the skylight, aiming it so that it would land squarely in front of Strange on the floor. Immediately, I wrapped my cape around myself, so my whole body aside from my head would be concealed. Strange picked up the batarang. He looked up at me, saying, "Who're you?" I responded in a deeper and gruffer voice, "I'm Batman." Strange just stared at me. "Batman?" he questioned. "Batman," I repeated. Strange cracked a smile, which grew into a grin and mutated into a laugh. I mentally scrambled towards something to say, and all that came out was, "For the record, I didn't come up with the name." "I'm sure you didn't," said Strange. Turning towards his henchmen, he said, "Kill this idiot."

My first thought was _I'm not an idiot. _My second thought occurred when a bullet whizzed past my head, and it was simply, _GET DOWN THERE. _I jumped backwards off the roof's edge. Halfway through the flip, I fired one of my grappling hooks at the wall above a window. The hook latched onto the wall, allowing me to swing through. Theatrics: check. They immediately started shooting in my direction. Through some luck, none of the bullets hit me.

A guard in front of me fired at me just as I ran along the wall for a second and jumped off, fist flying at his face. I landed a teeth-shattering blow to his head. He laid there groaning through a bloody nose and mouth. I used another grappling hook to position myself on one of the rafters. They fired towards the ceiling, yet again missing me. I pulled out six batarangs, three in each hand. I threw them at six guards. Three nailed them in the face, two in the midsection, and one of them will have trouble reproducing.

I smiled to myself. _So this is what taking down baddies feels like, _I thought. The moments before transpired in about fifteen seconds, meaning Hugo Strange had just started to make his way to the door. I exited the building through another window, and landed in front of Strange. A bodyguard pulled out his pistol, but I struck his arm up into the air and sent the heel of my palm into his chin. The bodyguard crumpled.

I'm six foot one. Strange is five foot six. You can imagine where this went. I lifted him up by his shirt collar, putting my face two inches from his. "When you get to Arkham," I said, "tell your cellmate and anybody who'll listen: beware the Batman." Amid his protests, I cuffed Strange, threw him over my shoulder, and ran off while simultaneously calling 911. Thankfully, there was a patrolling police officer not two minutes from my position. With Strange still over my shoulder, I climbed up another warehouse and waited for the police officer.

When he arrived with backup, I unceremoniously dropped Strange into a dumpster. The police noticed, and took him in. The following day, Strange was on his way to Arkham with all his men. Apparently, all those who weren't knocked out or writhing on the floor tried to clean up the massive amount of equipment and meth. If they were smart, they would've gotten out of there when I went through the window.

That was my first big success as Batman. I took down a couple more criminals the next day as well. By this time, Batman was famous. I was on a roll. But what I was greeted by when I got home that night was kind of a downer. One of the windows had been expertly opened, and I heard a faint rustling about twenty feet away. Someone was in my house. I lunged towards the spot where I heard the noise and grabbed the thief by his shirt collar.

I picked him up and brought him close to my face. I put on my Batman voice and said, "What are you doing here?" The thief responded, "Batman?! I'm sorry, alright! Just don't kill me, or anything." _Aw, heck, _I thought. I had heard that voice before. I removed the ski mask the thief was wearing. "Dick Grayson?" I said. He grimaced at me and said, "Yep, that's me." I dropped him onto the marble floor. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Are you kidding me?" I said. I took off my mask, considering he looked pretty scared.

His eyes widened. "Bruce Wayne? You're Batman?" he said, surprised. I nodded. "I didn't know this was _your _house!" he added frantically. I looked at him and said, "You didn't know that this was Wayne Manor. Mm-hmm. Right, sure. It's not like it's the biggest house in the city, or anything." "Look, I haven't lived here that long, okay?" he said. I continued staring at him. I had a thought. "Hey," I said, "How did you get in here without waking up Alfred?" He sat up and said, "Well, me and my parents were acrobats, so, it wasn't really that hard." "Well, never mind about that," I said. "Just get out of here." "You're not going to call the cops on me?" he asked. "No," I said, "but don't tell anyone that I'm Batman, or else." "Or else what?" he asked nervously. "I _will _tell the cops," I said. I helped him up and he said, "Thanks. Your secret's safe with me." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Don't do that," I said. He gingerly took his hand off, and I led him out the door. I heard clattering from down the hall, and Alfred emerged from his room. "Master Wayne," he said, "I trust your little expedition went well." I looked back through the window. Dick was already out of sight. "Yeah," I said. "I guess it did."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI

The Joker didn't like jail. The food was bad, the clothes were horrendous, and, as it were, every big guy in the joint really _did _have a perpetual scowl on his face. The yard didn't do anything for him, either. It consisted of a field of drab, dead grass, lackadaisically strewn weights and other various pieces of work-out equipment, and that one guy who had an entourage that probably had about six inmates who didn't actually want to be around him. There did turn out to be one upside, however.

Fights were common, and all the Joker really ever had to do was sit on the bleachers and relax. He loved seeing these underdeveloped monkeys mercilessly pummel each other in a silly attempt at power and respect. To the Joker, neither of these were something to be valued. You can gain or lose both at really any time, as if it was some kind of random shoestring you never got around to using, or perhaps a small piece of jewelry.

He was laughing one day at one of these said fights, when one of the biggest offenders, some freak called Killer Croc, came up to him. Killer Croc had been in Arkham for five years so far, after being decided guilty of murder. He'd instigated several fights before, and he only hurt them enough to make sure they never messed with him again. Just in case you're wondering, he wasn't the one with the entourage. But he _was _a hulking mass of green tinted, scaly muscle. So you can understand why the Joker's laughter died when he saw him.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Croc menacingly. The Joker put on a look of mock concentration and contemplation and said, "Hm…John Travolta? No wait, wait, Brad Pitt! Oh, I'm so bad at these." Croc got tired of it and grabbed the Joker by the throat. Croc pulled him towards his face, stopping just short. The Joker said, "Hey, this is fairly intimate. I appreciate the gesture, but I like it better if they buy me a drink fir- WHOA!" At that moment Croc had thrown the Joker off the bleachers.

Croc placed his massive foot on the Joker's chest and growled, "Idiot! I'm Killer Croc, and I don't think we've met! So I'd like to introduce myself with some fighting!" The Joker said, "Well, I was watching a fight when you so rudely threw onto my back, so if you don't mind, maybe we could this later over coffee." Croc leaned down and said through gritted, serrated teeth, "NO!" The Joker nodded and said, "You're right, you're absolutely right…the coffee here's terrible."

Croc picked up the Joker and said, "Look, little man, we're doing this now, and we're FIGHTING!" The sentence caught the attention of the other criminals who were fighting, and it compelled them to stop. The Joker sighed, seemingly exasperated, and said, "Now, look! You've made them stop! Nobody's even gotten their nose broken yet. Oh, wait, my mistake, there's bleeding from the mouth! Even better." Croc growled loudly and dropped the Joker. "It wouldn't be worth it to fight you," said Croc, "You'd just make jokes."

As Croc turned away, the Joker grinned and ran toward him. Grabbing Croc's head, the Joker charged at the bleachers. The Joker stopped and slammed Croc's head onto the bleachers, busting it and knocking him unconscious. He leaned down and looked at Croc, saying, "Never provoke a joker. He won't fight fair." The Joker proceeded to sit on the bleachers, using Croc as a footrest. The criminals who were previously fighting were still staring at the Joker. He waved his hand towards them and said, "Go on. You guys were just starting to get entertaining."

That day at lunch, nobody got within ten feet of the Joker, except for Ryukyu, Barren, and Wellsley. Barren seemed happy. "Hey, boss," he said, "I heard you roughed up Killer Croc." The Joker said, "Ah, whatever. The fight I was watching was better." All three henchmen were thinking how strange their ringleader had become. Barren spoke again. "Hey, boss," he said, "we've been thinking, and we think we should all have little names, with you being the Joker now and all." The Joker looked up and said, "That's not a bad idea. How's about for you, Harold: Smiley." "Smiley?" asked Barren, "Why Smiley?" The Joker put his hands together.

"I'm glad you asked," he said, "Well, Harold, I'm the Joker. You're American. Now if I'm the Joker, I'm fairly sure I should have henchmen with names or appearances that have to do with smiling or laughing and/or where they're from. So for you, Smiley. For Joseph, Chester, like the Cheshire Cat. For Masashi, Kami, short for Kamikaze." "Maybe so," said Wellsley. "Good," said the Joker. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get more banana pudding."

One detail of my parents' death hasn't been said yet. They died less than a week before their 15th wedding anniversary. And so, a few days after my birthday and their deaths, I stood once again in front of their headstones. As I walked up I said, "Happy anniversary. I bought roses for Mom for you, Dad, so remember, you owe me one. Not much has happened, but I have started to try to protect the city as the Batman. I know it sounds pretty crazy, but I figure I can do some good." I heard someone behind me. "I thought I'd find you here, Bats!" _Bats?, _I thought, puzzled. _No one calls me that. _I turned around and saw Dick standing there, smiling.

"Wait," I said. "There's no way you could have known I was going to be here. How long, exactly, have you been waiting for me?" Dick shrugged his shoulders and said, "Eh, a couple of hours. I do it every day. I wanted to talk to you." "About breaking into my house?" I asked. Dick made a dismissive gesture and said, "Nah, I figure that's water under the bridge." "Uh-huh," I said. "What is it you want?"

Dick rubbed his hands together rapidly and said, "I wanted to ask you about this whole Batman gig you've got going." I looked at him and said, "Seriously. While I'm giving flowers to my dead parents you want to talk about my unusual night job?" "Heck yeah, I want to talk about it," he replied. I sighed and said, "Fine. What do you want to ask about it?" "Okay, here goes…can I get in on it?" I stared at him. "No," I said, "Absolutely not." "Aw, come on," said Dick, "I was able to break into your house, man! I mean, I could do this!" "It's more dangerous than you think," I said.

Dick seemed frustrated. "Look, I already packed my bags," he said. "I want to be able to move into your place!" I looked at him and said, "That wouldn't be because it's a mansion, would it?" Dick went "pffft" and said, "Whaaaat?! No, man! Of course not!" I kept staring at him. "Okay, in part," he said. "Look, the only way that's ever going to happen is if I adopt you, or something," I said. Dick raised a finger and said, "Au contraire, my friend. I have an apartment. All you have to do is…" "Wait," I interrupted, "You have an apartment?" "Well, actually it's not mine, I just used it to fool Mr. Geralds." I had just realized how many laws this kid had broken.

I put my hand to my face and said, "Alright, fine. If I don't you won't leave me alone. Now, what is it you were saying I had to do?" "All you have to do," he said, "is pick me up. Like I said, I'm packed." I thought about it. "Okay," I said, "but you won't be fighting crime any time soon." "I guess I can deal with that," said Dick. I looked back to my parents' graves and said, "Bye, guys. I'm about to make a terrible mistake." "Don't listen to him," said Dick. "I'm a pretty good kid, and…" "You broke into my HOUSE!" I said angrily.

Dick threw his hands up in mock surrender. He turned around and walked back towards my Rolls-Royce. I walked up to the driver's side, rubbing the bridge of my nose. As I got in the car, I noticed Dick fiddling with everything, making the windshield-wipers go on full, making Mariachi music blare from the radio, and repeatedly turning the A/C on and off. I stopped him and said, "What, have you never been in a car before?" Dick shrugged and said, smiling, "Not one as nice as this."

I looked around the car. It _was _nice. I guess I just always took that for granted. When we reached the apartment building, Dick got out and said frantically, "Okay, let's go. I'm going to climb up the fire escape and chuck the luggage down into the dumpster." "Why?" I asked. "Well," he said, "The proprietor of this place was asleep when I showed Mr. Geralds, and I don't know if the actual owner has returned, so I'm going to have to be careful."

As he ran off towards the fire escape, I lifted my arms and let them fall back down to my sides. _This kid's a piece of work, _I thought. I kept watching him, and my mouth fell open when he reached the fire escape. He clambered up with the skills of a spider monkey. I guess being an acrobat paid off. Soon, pieces of luggage began raining into the dumpster below. Within a few minutes, Dick was back on the ground, starting to get his stuff from the dumpster.

As he ran back, he said, "Okay, also, I have an Xbox coming in from Amazon. It should arrive sometime today. We'll just have to wait." "I have one at my house," I said. "I know," said Dick. "This one's for my room." I rolled my eyes. But we did wait. And when it came, we headed towards Wayne Manor. _Moving him in is going to be a job, _I thought.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII

When we reached Wayne Manor, Dick immediately got out and said, "Ah, it feels like it was yesterday, the last time I was here." "Hardy har," I said. We approached the entrance, and knocked on the door. Alfred answered it and said, "Welcome back, Master Wa—um, who is this?" I cleared my throat awkwardly and said, "This is Dick Grayson." I told him what happened. Alfred said, "Well, in that case, I don't think anyone else has to know, do they?" "NOPE," I said.

As we walked through Wayne Manor, Dick looked at and touched everything, eventually nearly knocking over a two hundred thousand dollar vase…after which he knocked over a _five hundred thousand _dollar armor set. I turned around and said, "_Please _keep your hands on your bags." "Got it, Bats," Dick replied. "And don't call me Bats!" I said. Dick nodded and said, "Of course. Won't happen again." "Thank you," I said.

We reached my childhood room a few seconds later. "This'll be your room," I said. Dick looked around and finally asserted, "Snazzy." "Yeah, sure," I said, "Do what you will." I walked off, not realizing that Dick was still following. I reached my room, and Dick peered around the corner. "So this is where you keep it," he said. I jumped. "Yeah, it sure is," I said. I looked at the Batman suit. It still looked pretty cool, even without its owner inside. "You know," Dick continued, "I'm not sure you should keep it in here. You need…a Batcave!" "A Batcave?" I said. "Yeah, you know, like a lair," said Dick, "Are there any caves nearby we can use?"

I sighed and said, "Yes, but it's an actual bat cave." "Well, that shouldn't be a problem for Batman, should it?" said Dick. "Well, actually…" I said. Dick widened his eyes and let his jaw drop. "Batman is scared of bats?" he said in disbelief. "I'm not _scared _of them," I said. Dick laughed and continued, "Methinks he doth protest too much! You're _so _afraid of bats! This is hilarious! If I didn't have to keep it a secret, I would post it on Facebook!" I shifted uncomfortably while Dick laughed more. "Are you done?" I said eventually. Dick blew out a long puff of air and said, "Yes. But we're using that cave."

Though I kept saying it wasn't a good idea, Dick had already fashioned a torch out of an old table leg that he found in the trash and an old shirt and was in the process of lighting it. As it burst into flame, he said, "Alright, if you won't go in there, I will." I knew I couldn't let him go in alone, so I said reluctantly, "Fine, I'll get a flashlight."

We walked to the cave. As we reached the mouth, Dick turned and smiled at me. "You ready?" he asked. "As I'll ever be," I replied. "Then let's do it," he said. He walked in ahead of me, and I followed. We had only gone a few hundred feet when a few bats came at us. I yelled and jumped back, dropping my flashlight. Dick looked back at me, smirking, with one eyebrow raised. Breathing heavily, I picked up my flashlight while saying, "Not one word." Dick turned back around, still smiling, while shaking his head.

As we kept walking, Dick looked around and said, "Hey, you know, this is almost like a natural driveway." "Batman _does _have a car," I said. Soon, we reached the end of the tunnel and found that it opened up into a gigantic cavern, filled with the squeaking of bats. Many of them flew downwards towards us and past us. I stiffened, not breathing. Dick, however, was standing in the middle of the swarm, grinning. He looked towards me and said, "Come on, man, this is pathetic. You're called Batman! You have to face your fears sometime." "I'd rather not right now, thank you," I said.

Dick walked to the left side of the cavern and waved his torch in a general area and said, "See, I figure we can have a bunch of computers right here, you know, to store criminal data, and such." He dashed over to the north side and continued, "Gadget rack, right here. I mean, if anybody else gets in on this, a good first impression includes showing off your coolness. And here, smack in the middle, we can have your car." He tapped his foot on the ground. "Hm, what else? Oh, how about on the right side, if we ever have, like, specialized Batman costumes, we can have like a row of display cases!"

I had to admit, I liked his suggestions. But I wasn't such a fan of the place being an actual bat cave, of course. There was one other problem. "Hey," I said, "Those are good ideas and all, but that still leaves a lot of space. What do you think we should do with the rest of it?" Dick thought for a minute. "I've got it," he said, "Every time you go out and take down some kind of villain, you can bring back a souvenir." "A souvenir?" I said. "Yeah," said Dick, "You know, like, say, you put away the, um…the Bee." "The Bee," I said. "Look, I'm doing this on the spot, alright?" He said. "Anyway, say he uses a 'honey-gun'. When you take him down, you take the honey-gun, and you put it in a glass case here."

I nodded. "Okay, maybe so," I said, "But if we want to keep this place a secret, we'll have to make sure that no one wants to come in here." "True," agreed Dick. And so, about an hour later, there was a sign in front of the cave saying DANGER. I nodded and said, "Alright, fine. We can use this place as a 'Batcave'." "I knew you'd come around," said Dick, smiling.

Afterwards, we headed back to Wayne Manor and started to move Dick in. We hooked up his Xbox to the TV inside, and he began to put his books on the shelf and his posters on the wall. I left to let him finish. When it was time to come to dinner, I walked to his room and knocked on his doorframe. He was sitting on his bed, reading. "Hey," I said, "Dinner's ready." "Okay," he said, "Just let me finish this part." I looked at the book he was reading. It was _Dante's Inferno. _I looked around on his shelf and saw Ulysses, War & Peace, The Iliad, and several other classic tomes.

I looked back at him and said, "I didn't pin you as the reading type." "Well, you learn to do it when you live on a train," said Dick, "Besides, this stuff is good." "That is true," I said. "Alright," said Dick, closing the book, "I'm ready to go." I led him to the dining room. There was already three plates of some kind of French delicacy the name of which I can't pronounce on the table. Dick just stared at it for a few seconds. "Come on, try it, it's good," I said. Dick gingerly picked up his fork and cut off a piece. He chewed it slowly, judging its taste.

Eventually, he nodded and said, "Not bad. You guys got some Coke to go with this?" "Sure," I said. I got him a can, and as I sat back down, I said, "I knew you'd like it. I always had this for my birthday." "Well, you certainly knew how to party," said Dick. After dinner, I showed Dick all my cars. "Do you have your driver's license?" I asked. "I have my permit," he replied. "Well, in that case, I guess you'll take one of these for a spin later," I said. "Why not now?" he asked. "Because," I said, "right now I have to go and patrol." "Oh," said Dick.

Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed in the Batman suit, and Dick was leaning on my doorframe with his arms crossed. He sighed and said, "Are you _sure _I can't go with you?" "No," I said, "If you want something to do, just play Halo or pester Alfred." "I guess I can do both," he said. "Alright, just don't give the old man a heart attack," I said. We heard from about twenty feet away, "I heard that." "I would say that's the old man," said Dick. "Ha, ha," I said.

That night was fairly boring, aside from a couple of muggers. Of course, the victims grabbed their possessions and ran away. In this city, for someone like me, a thank-you _is _too much to ask for. I took it slow on the way back to Wayne Manor. The city I grew up in. The view from a rooftop gave me a new perspective. It looked so desolate that way. All the buildings were drab and dark, and steam wafted through the air from dozens of smokestacks. I eventually came across the police station, and a figure sitting on the edge of the roof caught my eye.

It was a girl, about Dick's age, with red hair, looking out over Gotham. "What are you doing up here?" I asked. She jumped and turned around. Her jaw dropped when she saw me. "BATMAN?!" she said. "Not so loud," I said through gritted teeth. "Oh, sorry…Batman?" she said. "Yes," I said. She got up and said, "Eh, I just head up here at night. It's actually a pretty good view. Fortunately, my dad always hides his keys in the same place, so I can get in here easily." "Your dad?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, "My dad's Jim Gordon." I froze for a few seconds. I finally snapped out of it and said, "Um, so you're…?" "Barbara Gordon, at your service. Well, not literally of course, I just meant that…" "I know what you meant," I said.

Barbara nodded and said, "I'm glad we understand each other." "Hey, why don't you head on home," I said, "I wouldn't want to worry your dad." "Oh, come on," she said, "There had to be some days where you had to get away from your parents!" I looked her in the eye and said, "No, there wasn't." She faltered. "Come on," I said, "I'll follow on the rooftops."

After I got her home, I headed back to mine. I went to Dick's door and heard him snoring. "Sir," I heard behind me. I looked around to see Alfred. "Oh, hey, Alfred," I said. "I've been meaning to ask you: Why did you take the boy in?" Alfred asked. "Because he needs someone to look up to," I replied, "He needs a father figure. I just think I can do that." Alfred smiled and went back to bed. I decided to stay by the door for a little while longer, alone with my thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII

The repetitive schedule of Arkham had bored the Joker for a while, and he felt like he would die of boredom if something out of the ordinary didn't happen. One day at lunch, something happened that was exactly what he wanted. The Joker was eating with Smiley, Kami, and Chester (as they were now called), as usual, waiting for the grind of the day to begin again. There had been something that was bothering the Joker. There was a guard that day that seemed…different than the others. As far as anyone could tell, he was there all day. _Strange, _the Joker thought.

The Joker had been watching this guard since he got up that morning, and he noticed that the guard was also watching _him. _The Joker had several theories. The one that was most bothersome, however, was one that suggested that the guard was sent here to kill him. Whenever he voiced his suspicions, Smiley, Kami, and Chester just said he was paranoid. But the Joker was still convinced, keeping his gaze in the guard's general direction. The Joker had begun drumming his fingers on the table when the guard walked up to him. "See there, gents?" said the Joker, "I told you this guy was here to whack me." "What?" said the guard, "I don't…ah, forget about it. What've you been watching me for?"

The Joker was puzzled. "So…you weren't sent here to kill me?" he asked. "No!" said the guard, appalled, "Why would you think that?" "Well, I don't know, maybe it's because you happen to be the creepiest guard I've ever had the displeasure to lay eyes on!" said the Joker in one breath. "Well, you're the creepiest criminal _I've _ever seen!" said the guard, "I've been taking an all-day shift to make sure you don't try anything!" "Oh," said the Joker, "I suppose that makes more sense." "Yeah," said the guard.

Hey, it was something out of the ordinary, exactly what the Joker wanted. There was no mention of it being something like breaking out, or anything. In fact, the Joker did like one or two aspects of Arkham. One was the fighting in the yard. The other was the place's library. It had many different books of many different subjects, and in reading, the Joker found relative solace, and it helped him think. And thinking was something that the Joker found to be very beneficial. And so, in a couple of months, the Joker had had just the right amount of thinking to help him out a bit.

He had fun with it. He started with some basic analyzing, like making the simple deduction that the reason Killer Croc fought everyone was because he was self-conscious about his scaly skin, much like a teenager with bad acne. He also figured out the motives behind Poison Ivy's killing of several land developers. She probably ran some kind of garden in Gotham which was destroyed, leading her to see the developers as criminals deserving of the death sentence. The Joker asked Ivy about it, and she promptly slapped him. Yep, it would seem that the Joker was right about that one. Life was starting to get better for him.

I had seen all the reports on Batman's daring escapades, as well as interviews with ordinary citizens on what they thought of "The Dark Knight". As far as I could see, it was about fifty-fifty. Some thought I was a good man trying to help. Some thought I was a glory-seeking lunatic. But the police, I couldn't get a bead on. Jim Gordon had no comment. Huh. I decided to personally ask him.

I know, it seems like a dumb idea, but I went forward with it. I entered the same way I did the last time I was at the police station. Jim didn't move. Instead, he said, "If you're trying to give me a heart attack, it isn't working." I froze and said, "I was going to ask you what you thought of me." "I don't know," said Gordon, "I mean, I gather you're trying to help, and you're certainly doing what the police aren't." "So, do you think I'm helping or hurting?" I asked. Gordon sighed and said, "I guess. You took down Hugo Strange, there's points for you. Of course, I wasn't very happy when you knocked me unconscious." I laughed awkwardly.

"But," continued Gordon, "I suppose, overall, you're helping." "Well, now that I know that," I said, "do you think you could set up a meeting with the Joker?" Gordon turned around, eyebrows raised. "Just like that, you think that I'd do that?" he said. "Uh, a little bit," I said. Gordon wrestled with the decision for a few seconds. Then he walked to his door, opened it, and told everybody else they could go home, except for two officers. "Why are they staying here?" I asked. "To make sure you don't do anything to the Joker," he replied.

I waited to enter the room, instead watching the Joker as they led him in. As he walked in, he said, "So, who is it?" he assumed an expression of mock exhilaration and continued, "Is it a secret admirer? That's sweet, but you'll have to tell her that I'm taken. You see, there's a nice blonde over in Arkham, so…" I walked in at that moment and said, "Not exactly." "Whoa," said the Joker, "Okay, notice how I said 'her'. I'm sorry, I'm sure you're a nice guy, it's just…" "Enough with the jokes," I interrupted.

The Joker laughed and leaned forward, saying, "Uh, Joker here? I'm not sure you understand the situation." I had to resist punching this guy. I slightly tightened my fist, and the Joker's eyes flashed towards it and back to me. "Ooh, am I annoying you?" he asked, "Yay!" He began rapidly clapping. I sighed heavily, trying to calm down, and said, "I wanted to ask you a question. When you were still the Red Hood, why didn't you go after larger targets? It seemed you had the skill." "Ah, therein lies the rub," said the Joker, "The guy who hired us…though we never saw him or knew his name, he always told us to go for smaller targets, and he would pay us twice what we scored. If we went for a bigger one…well, more than our contract would be terminated."

I was puzzled. I said, "I still don't get it." The Joker said, "Alright, then. I suspect that the guy who made _me…_also hired the Red Hood and his gang. I suppose the whole thing was like starving Cujo and then letting him off the leash. Course, this city was thrown to the dogs a long time ago. You want to know what else?" "What?" I asked. "Well, sometimes," began the Joker, "when I was bored, I would peruse old records, just randomly seeing what kind of crimes caught my eye. And I saw Joe Chill's murder of the Thomas and Martha Wayne." I tried to keep to together, not to give anything away.

Apparently, it didn't work. "What's wrong?" asked the Joker, "Were they, like, friends of _your _parents, or something?" "Uh, yeah, yes, they were," I said. "Too bad," continued the Joker, "Well, anyway, I think the guy who hired me hired Chill." "What makes you say that?" I asked. "Ah, somebody's INTERESTED!" said the Joker gleefully, "Here's what I gleaned. One: the murder weapon was a Magnum. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think a homeless guywould be able to afford something like that on his own unless he was willing to die of starvation. Two: the statement given by little Bruce said that Chill looked over his shoulder at somebody who was standing just outside the alley. The guy who orchestrated that seems like the kind of guy who would turn someone like the Red Hood into someone like me."

I had already figured this out sometime ago, but I was surprised that the Joker was able to pick up on it. This was a development that would influence future events, but I wanted to ask the Joker one last question: "You said Gotham had been thrown to the dogs. What did you mean?" The Joker laughed. He looked downwards as the laughter intensified. Eventually, he stopped and said, "Whoo! Good times. Well, I assume that the "protector" of the city would've grown up in it, right?" I nodded. He laughed again and continued, "Man, you're really not familiar with this place, are you?" "What?" I asked. He went on, "You know how most places on a map are marked with a red pin?"

I stayed silent. "Well," he kept going, "this place should have a black pin. It's practically the crime capital of America! You have any idea what Gotham does to a person? In fact, do you know what happened to Amadeus Arkham, the founder of Arkham Asylum?" I shook my head. He rubbed his hands together and began, "Well, he, as you would expect, was a psychiatrist for the criminally insane. He was so devoted to his line of work that his house was turned into the asylum! But, more than his work, he loved his daughter. Now, there was a criminal at the time who had a penchant for beheading minors." My stomach crawled up my throat, anticipating what was coming.

The Joker continued, grinning, "One day, Amadeus discovered his house had been broken into. He explored his entire house, eventually discovering the intruder had entered through his _daughter's room. _He didn't find her, and who knows for what reason, he decides to look in her dollhouse. You know what he finds?" I gulped. "Yep," said the Joker, "As you can imagine, this experience leaves Amadeus rattled, and about a month later he electrocutes the killer. Then a week later he kills himself. _That _is what I meant. Would you like me to continue my dissertation?" I figured he would do it anyway, so I, in spite of myself, nodded.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX

The most disturbing part of the situation was most certainly the grin plastered on the Joker's face. Whatever he said, he was smiling. This didn't help as he kept going, "This place may not be the murder capital of the world, but that's probably because no one bothers to report it. Gotham has ties to extremely dangerous crime families, most notably the Falcone family. And let me tell you, it's pretty deep. When Carmine Falcone kills someone, he doesn't even need to hide it. Everybody is either working for him or they're too scared."

I looked at him and said, "Not everyone." The Joker nodded grudgingly and said, "Yeah, there are some people, like Jim Gordon or Harvey Dent, but what have they done so far? Huh? Seriously, give me one example where those two…have done _anything_ that in the long run damages Carmine's 'business'." I couldn't find a suitable answer. The Joker started back up after a few seconds of silence, "Although, I suppose that's what our mysterious villain is wanting." "What?" I said. "I think the guy who hired me and Chill wants the city destroyed," replied the Joker.

"Why?" I asked. "It's not like I could tell you _why_," said the Joker, "I don't know enough about the man. But I can give you my reasoning well enough. Think about it. Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered, and they were affectionately called the 'Gotham philanthropists', so called because of their continual contributions to the city. And then, there's my earlier analogy. If you're going to let _Cujo _off the leash, a _killer _dog, what are you trying to accomplish?" I gulped and said, "To injure someone...or worse." The Joker pointed at me and said, "Bingo! And I see who he wants to 'injure'. The city council, the officials, the bigwigs. He wants me to show everybody who they really are and then use my doggy teeth to rip out their throats."

"What do you mean?" I asked, wanting to see his reasoning. The Joker laughed and said, "Most of these guys would sell their kids if it would save their own wretched skin. Sure there are a couple of good guys, but most of them…they should've had a needle taken to them a long time ago." "So you see yourself as what, a hero?" I said condescendingly. "No, I'm a criminal," said the Joker, "and I deserve what I've gotten. But these guys haven't. That's where I come in. If I succeed or even if I get caught, I'll gladly serve a life sentence or two. As long as I know they won't be breathing, or at least most of them. So, no, I'm not a hero. I'm just a clown."

I stared at him for a long time. He looked back at me and said, "Once again, I can't accept your love." My mouth twitched. "Gordon?" I said, "I think we're done here." I walked out, and the two officers came in to get the Joker. He stopped them and said, "Hey, Batman?" I turned around. The Joker continued, "This city is deceptively beautiful, with all its buildings and its wonderful skyline. But whether you kill yourself, or you get murdered, or you die a natural death, you'll die knowing that it's Gotham that killed you. You can carry on your slightly creepy way." "You're one to talk," I said. "That I am," said the Joker. As I walked away, I heard the Joker ask the guards to drag him away by his arms, "Like in the movies", as he put it.

Before I left, Alfred had told me about a guy named Anarky who was running around causing general mischief. From police reports, Anarky was only a nuisance. They had figured out that he would only help small-time criminals, nothing more. No one has died directly or indirectly because of Anarky. Nevertheless, of course, I still would have to get him. So I watched and waited, with my helmet tuned to the police radio frequency. Eventually, I heard a voice talking about a couple of guys who they _knew _were amateurs robbing a bank with some pretty heavy guns. _Anarky, _I thought.

I quickly headed for that part of town, eventually reaching the bank. I knew that Anarky couldn't have gotten far, so I did a sweep of the surrounding area, and quickly found him. He was shorter than I had expected, and thinner. I jumped off a low roof and landed in front of him. He backed away, terrified, and yelled, "_Batman!_" I squinted and said, "Did your voice just crack?" "Uh, NO! No, it didn't," he said, obviously trying to control his voice. I rolled my eyes and kicked him in the chest. He landed hard on his back, gasping. I pinned him down with my foot and took off his mask.

I was saddened by what I saw. He couldn't have been older than 17 or 18. I helped him up and said, "What's your name, kid?" "L-Lonnie Machin," he replied nervously. "What're you doing?" I asked. "Well," he said, "I just…" "Just what?" I said, "You know, maybe the better question is _why_? Why are you doing this? You're throwing your life away." "I JUST WANT TO FEEL FREE!" he shouted. I took out a pair of handcuffs, sighed, and said, "There are better ways to do that."

After I dropped him in front of the bank, I headed to Wayne Manor. I pulled up my laptop, and dug through the city records looking for any info on Lonnie. What I found revealed to me why he did what he did. He was regularly locked into his room for sometimes days on end without a suitably supply of food by his crack-head parents. He was taken to the Gotham Orphanage at the age of nine after his parents were sentenced to thirty-five years for possession of crack. He was adopted by strict and unfair parents who basically kept him sealed away, not like his biological parents, but he was really a nobody in his own house.

I understood why he became Anarky. He was tired of the twisted authority he had faced throughout his life, and he wanted a change. Lonnie's story made me think of Dick. What if I hadn't found him? Would he be out on the streets, a criminal? I may never know. But I was glad I didn't have to worry about it. I _did _find him. He _isn't _out on the streets. I closed my laptop and headed for the Batcave.

I took off the Batman suit and placed it on the rack which I had moved from my room. I stared at it for a long time, thinking. _So, this is what it feels like,_ I thought. This is what it felt to be a hero. I mean, I don't have powers like my friends, but I imagine they feel the same. I yawned loudly and heard the sound reverberate, causing the bats to stir. I froze as several of them flew downwards towards me. As they passed me, I closed my eyes and managed to relax. Even as one brushed up against me, I stayed calm. I was one step closer to conquering my fear of bats.

I went back up to my room and lied down on my bed. Staring up at the ceiling, I thought about everything that the Joker had said earlier that day. He was an interesting criminal. Through that smile, though, he seemed almost…sad. To this day, I still don't fully understand him. I guess that's his curse. To have a personality so erratic that it can't really be called a personality at all.

And then there was Lonnie. The poor kid. All the pent-up anger and need to have some amount of freedom resulted in overcompensation and taking it out on the city. That was the moment I realized that he wasn't the first, and he wouldn't be the last teen to become a criminal, all because of the life Gotham has. All these years, living in a mansion, I never took stock of anybody else's life. The Joker was right. Gotham can kill you, and it can make you into someone you're not. But still, that didn't mean I totally agreed with him. I didn't believe that the councilmen should be killed, no matter how corrupt. They should have a fair trial, a sentence in accordance with the law. But then again, there never was enough damning evidence for something like that. I suppose that's the angle the Joker came from.

I heard sounds like muffled gunfire from down the hall coming from Dick's room. I got up and headed to his room. I opened the door to find him mowing down Covenant Elites with a Spartan Laser. "What time is it?" I asked, yawning. "One in the morning," said Dick, not taking his attention off of the game, "I couldn't sleep." "Why not?" I asked. "I had a nightmare," he replied. "What kind of nightmare?" I asked. "It wasn't so much a nightmare as it was memories," he replied.

I fell silent. "I'm sorry for asking," I said. "Don't be," said Dick, "I'll bet you've had that happen to you." I sat down on his bed and said, "Yeah, a few times." "Sucks, doesn't it?" said Dick. I never really had thought about it that much. "It sure does," I said. Dick pointed towards the second controller and said, "You want to play?" "Okay," I said. I picked up the controller and said, "So, Halo 3?" "Heck yeah," said Dick, "Best of the series. Course, we'll see if 5 can top it. Did you see the teaser?" "Oh, yeah," I said, suddenly geeking out, "It looks amazing." "You've got that right," said Dick, "So, what level do you think we should play?" "Uh, how about Cortana?" I said, "I never could beat it alone." "Then let's do it," said Dick.

As we played, Dick said, "So, how about that Anarky guy?" I sighed and paused the game, saying, "He was just a teenager." "How old?" asked Dick. "Seventeen," I replied, "I mean, just think, in a year he could've graduated, and instead he's in juvenile detention. I just…" I sighed again. "I get it," said Dick, "Throwing his life away, and all that. It's a downer, all right." I nodded and resumed the game. "I mean, who knows?" I said, "What if it had gone another way? What if he helped instead of hurt?" "You mean what if he became a hero?" asked Dick. "Yeah," I said, "That's exactly what I mean."

We played and played, eventually beating the level on Heroic difficulty after an hour. "Well, that's that out of the way," said Dick, "I'm going to hit the hay." As he nodded off, he mumbled, "Hey, that rhymed." I smiled and walked back to my room, finding Alfred leaning on the wall outside of his. "Did you have fun, Master Wayne?" "Yeah," I said, "I did." "That's very good," said Alfred, shifting, "You know, maybe you can be a 'father figure' to young Master Grayson." I shrugged. "Maybe," I said. Alfred chuckled and said, "Goodnight, Master Wayne." "Night, Alfred," I replied. We both reentered our room, and I went back to my bed. All the time before I fell asleep, I thought about the day and silently wondered how I ended up with such a life.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER X

At the end of another two weeks, the Batcave had a vast array of computers set up exactly where Dick wanted it. Soon after it was installed, I got a call from Lucius saying he'd finished the car. I excitedly walked to Wayne Enterprises. When I reached Lucius, I saw the car. "That is MAGNIFICENT!" I shouted. "I thought you'd like it," said Lucius. It was fitted with black armor, and there was my logo in grey on the hood. The state it was in, it looked more like a tank. "Can I take it out for a spin?" I asked. "Why not?" said Lucius, smirking.

I got in, seeing that the interior was only a remnant of the Aventador it had once been. Lucius pointed at the jumble of buttons on the dash. "Okay," he said, "We've got grappling hooks, Gatling guns, boosts, the whole nine yards." "Is there spike treads?" I asked. "There sure is," said Lucius. "Then let's get started," I said. Fortunately there was a part of the building specifically for testing vehicles. As I began driving, I said, "This thing is _smooth._" "You've got that right," said Lucius, "Course, it's no surprise, seeing as how I made it." I laughed and said, "None at all."

"Alright, let's see what this thing can do," I said. I pushed the boost button, feeling the speed steadily increase, eventually topping at about 210 MPH. I turned it off and coasted around the track, letting the speed decrease. "Very nice," I said. There was a cement pillar in the center of the room, allowing me to test the grappling hooks. There was one stored in the right, one in the left. I pressed left. The hook shot out and embedded itself in the pillar, and the car swung around. Eventually coming to a halt, I said, "That'll be useful. What can we use to test the guns?"

Lucius said, "Well, you won't kill the wall." "What if someone comes down here?" I asked. "I cover my bases," he said, "I've installed retina scanners, fingerprint scanners, voice I.D. The only reason you get in here is because I turn them off before you arrive." I nodded and said, "Cool. Alright, let's bring out the big guns." I activated the Gatling guns, watching them quickly whip out of the sides. The steering mechanism was like an incomplete wheel with two red buttons. "Let's push the red buttons," I said. I jammed my thumbs downward, opening fire. The bullets came fast and hard, creating several hundred holes in the wall by the time I was out.

I got out, walking over towards the wall. "Wow," I said, looking at the massive dents the bullets made, "This is amazing. You understand, I won't be using this on anybody." "Of course, of course, "said Lucius, "but if you need to get through a wall…" "So, spike treads," I said. Lucius said, "Indeed." I got back in, saying, "Time for one more button." I pushed the spike tread button, and the metal tires opened up, revealing scale-like spikes. I pushed on the gas, speeding towards the wall. I rammed into it, the spikes still going, lifting the front of the car upwards. Eventually I was vertical, traveling up the wall. I smiled. "Being Batman is going to be a lot more fun with this thing," I said.

After getting back down, I said, "You know, I think I'll call this the Batmobile. I've already got batarangs and a Batcave, so why not?" Lucius smiled, and we both got out. I put my hand on the roof and said, "Do you think you can get this to my house anytime soon?" "Why not now?" said Lucius, "I'm sure we've got an eighteen-wheeler somewhere around here." "That'd be great!" I said.

We began to travel towards Wayne Manor. As we rumbled down the road, Lucius said, "So, how goes it in the Wayne household?" "Well, actually," I replied, "We have a new resident." "Who?" asked Lucius. "Dick Grayson," I replied. "The kid whose parents were…" Lucius trailed off. "Yeah," I said. "Are you trying to make sure he doesn't go through the same as you?" asked Lucius. I sighed and said, "I guess," I replied, shrugging, "I-I mean, it's not like he wasn't into anything illegal before. He actually broke into the manor." "Really?" Lucius laughed, "I like this kid already." "You and me both," I said.

Lucius cleared his throat and said, "I heard about Anarky." "Yeah," I said, "It's a crying shame. More than anything right now, I wish I didn't have to meet him that way." "If only," said Lucius, "But it's not your fault. You had no idea about this kid." "But what if I did?" I said, "I could've helped, I could've done _something_!" "Bruce, seriously, do me a favor and stop blaming yourself," said Lucius, "Gotham just does things to a person." "Yeah, like I haven't heard that before," I mumbled. "What?" said Lucius. "Nothing," I said dismissively.

We reached Wayne Manor to find Dick sitting on the front doorstep. We parked, and I got out of the truck, walking towards Dick. "What are you doing out here?" I asked. "Waiting for you," replied Dick, "I knew you were at Wayne Enterprises." I looked at my watch and said, "It's…8:30. It's a holiday, isn't it? What're you doing up at this hour?" "I'm different from other guys my age," said Dick, "So sue me." "Well, anyway, how did you know?" I asked. "I picked up the other line," said Dick, standing up, "So, where is this car of yours?"

He walked over to the truck, waiting excitedly for Lucius to open it up. "Ready to be wowed?" asked Lucius. "Heck yeah," said Dick. Lucius smiled and pulled the back open. Dick laughed, jumped inside, and said, "I like it. I like it a lot." I got inside, and said, "Yeah, but as Batman, I like it more, and I'm backing it out." Dick jumped over the hood and got in the passenger side, saying, "So, what model car was this?" "A Lamborghini Aventador," I said. "Oh, yeah, baby," said Dick, resting his head on the dash and running his hands over it. I looked at him and said, "Are you…_caressing _the car?" "Well, she's certainly beautiful enough," said Dick. "OKAY," I said, "That's enough of that, let's get this in the Batcave!"

The DANGER sign was also fitted with mechanisms that allowed it to open up. I pulled inside, and we came to a stop in the middle of the cavern. A couple minutes later, Lucius walked in, looked around, and said, "You're really serious about the whole bat theme, aren't you?" Dick got out and said, "Uh, actually this was my idea. See, he's actually scared of…" "Dick," I interrupted, "please shut up." Dick threw up his hands in mock surrender, eyebrows raised, and didn't say another word. "I guess I am," I continued, "This'll be Batman's pad." Lucius saw the computers and said, "So, you've got your own little mission control, huh?" "Yeah," I said. "And that's not all. Dick's got some other suggestions, too." Dick raised his eyebrow and said, "I thought I was supposed to shut up." I sighed and said, "Not anymore." Dick nodded, saying, "Thank you."

Dick walked off with Lucius in tow, and I went over to one side of the cavern where there was a glass case. I took Anarky's mask out of my jacket and placed it inside. Along with that, I placed a picture on the computer desk that was special to me: me and my parents, at my eighth birthday party. We were so happy back then. I stared at the photo for a long time, drowning in painful memories.

A few minutes later, Lucius came up and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked around again and said, "You're doing well here." He looked at the picture of me and my parents and said, "They would be proud." I laughed bitterly and said, "I wish I agreed with you. I mean, what have I really done so far?" "You've taken in and taken care of a kid that might've ended up like Anarky if it wasn't for you," said Lucius. I sighed and said, "Maybe. But then again, now he wants to take down villains with Batman. That's still throwing your life away, even if it's to help. I mean, he should settle down, have some kids, work a day job. He should have a good life. Unlike…" "Unlike you?" said Lucius. "Yeah," I said, "unlike me."

Lucius sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned against the computer desk, saying, "I'm not sure that Alfred would agree with you. I mean, I know what you've been through, but Alfred has done his best to help you out. And I daresay he's succeeded. You've had a good life, despite the hardships. And you're helping Dick with that. And besides, I think…" He trailed off. "You think what?" I said. Lucius uncrossed his arms and said, "I think kids like you end up this way. You know how bad humans can be, and you want to make sure that that changes." "Give me some examples," I said. "Okay," said Lucius, "There's Superman, who's home was destroyed. But two good people found him. Cyborg, he's half…no, less than half…human. But though he's different, his father helps him through everything. Beast Boy, yet another orphan. The Doom Patrol found him and…you know the rest."

I looked at him and said, "So, what you're saying is…" "What I'm saying," he said, "is if a kid who's had a life that's thrown everything at them is found by just a few people, and those people care for them and steer them the right way, those kids end up doing great things." "Like being a hero by night," I said, "Right. Yeah, that's totally great." Lucius smiled and said, "It is to me. You _are_ doing some real good." I sighed and said, "Okay. Whatever. Well, since we've got this moved in, how's about you stay for some brunch, or something?" Lucius nodded.

We went inside and asked Alfred if he could make something. "Of course, Master Wayne," he said, "What shall I prepare?" I shrugged and said, "Whatever you think is best." Alfred smirked and said, "Alright, then. I'll have something cooked up in no time." "Thanks, Alfred," I said, "Hey, uh, where's Dick?" "In his room, I imagine," replied Alfred. "Alright," I said, "In the meantime, Lucius, do you want some coffee?" "I think that would do me some good, yes," said Lucius.

We poured ourselves some good old-fashioned black coffee and sat down at the dining table. "So, what is he like?" asked Lucius. "I'm sorry, who?" I said. Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah," I laughed, "Yeah, he's…he's certainly different than any other sixteen-year-old I've ever met." "I think so, too," said Lucius. As he took another swig of coffee, I said, "I mean, he's a very good kid, all things considered. He's well-read, acrobatic, and… like I said, he even wants to get in on the whole hero thing."

Lucius smiled and said, "I think I know why he's different to you." "And why would that be?" I asked, smiling, "Go on, enlighten me." "I think," said Lucius, "it's because he's like you were at that age." I nearly spit out my coffee. "No way," I said, "I was never like that." "Oh, come on," said Lucius, "Long, disheveled black hair, well-read…well, you were more athletic, but still." I shrugged, and Alfred called us to a meal worthy of a mansion.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI

In the old halls of Arkham Asylum, thousands of criminals and basket cases lurked in cells and out in the halls. None of them escaped the notice of the Joker. And he didn't escape the notice of anyone else. As he walked through the halls or across the yard or through the cafeteria, at least one person would stare long and hard at his eternal grin, and still others would quickly look away, seeing something far more disturbing in his widened eyes. He didn't mind. It meant no one would bother him, not even Croc. In fact, Killer Croc was a model prisoner after the day the Joker severely injured him. He spoke softer, didn't get into any fights, and was even considering giving roses to Ivy Pepper. No one could say whether or not Killer Croc had suffered brain damage, but nobody was complaining.

Meanwhile the Joker's brain still surged with his trapped and unexpressed emotions. He looked like he was enveloped in pure ecstasy all hours of the day, but really the choice was not his own. He couldn't cry if he wanted to, he couldn't furrow his brow, he couldn't even frown. While many say that the Joker is full of himself, in reality he knows what kind of abomination he was transformed into, and he hates himself and his creator as much as anyone else. His rapid-fire quips and joking manner are just a chemically-induced mask that he can't remove.

His psychiatric sessions weren't any better to him. Harley tried to convince him that it was all in his head, but while that might be the case, he'll never be able to take it out. Even worse for the Joker, he really liked, maybe even loved Harley. He wanted more than anything else in the world to say, "You're beautiful," but it if he ever tried, all that would come forth was some inappropriate comment that he had to stop himself in the middle from saying. And still he smiled. His agony was multiplied when, one day, he saw a spark in Harley's eyes that told him that she loved him. It seemed illogical and a little condescending to him, illogical because of what he was, and condescending because she loved him in the way you would love a desolate puppy.

Although, he could understand why Harley felt this way. Simply from talking to her during their sessions, he gleaned that her home life wasn't all that much to speak about, with likely divorced parents and negligence. Whenever she was agitated, she slipped into a thick New Jersey accent, meaning she was likely from somewhere in the inner parts of the state. She must have lived with her mother and didn't see much of her father after her parents' divorce, because she was seeking after the nearest male to get attention from, and considering she chose the Joker, she probably didn't have great social skills either. From all of this, the Joker promptly drew the conclusion that she was having an inner battle not unlike his own, and she might have been at war with insanity as well.

All these things the Joker didn't tell Smiley, Kami, and Chester. If they knew about the swirling mass of compressed thoughts in his head, they would give him pity he didn't need. So he didn't tell them. And all day, every day, they talked to him and acted like he was fine, that the grin he wore was on purpose. They thought this meant they could behave sophomorically, but while he was insane, the Joker also had a degree of class, and he didn't appreciate this said behavior whatsoever. Still, they helped him out. They were loyal, he gave them that. They were some manner of friends, at least. But the fact still remained that he was a jumble of madness and sorrow, one which couldn't be untangled.

He was given one small comfort, however. When he got out of Arkham, and he knew he _would _get out, he had a mission laid out before him, one which he could carry out with the greatest pleasure. He may be a criminal, but those he sought to destroy were also criminals in their own right. He always pulled any political news out from the paper and cut out their faces, pinning them to his cell wall, as a macabre method to remind him of his goals. On some days, he simply sat in the middle of his cell, legs crossed, staring at his eventual victims. Whomever walked by during this ritual of his was overtaken by an unnatural feeling that something was going to happen, and _he, _the Joker, would be at the center.

Then there was the almost insurmountable question of Batman. He was an interesting man, one with an admittedly stylish look. Their talk was a kind of release for the Joker. He was able to lay out his intentions in front of the man who at least heard the Joker come into being, and have a reserve of confidence that bordered on the foolish that he couldn't stop it. His smile grew slightly at the thought. Another interesting point of the man was his identity. It's…no, not funny. It's intriguing. When a criminal's name is known, and he's taken in, the public's hate is there, but under the surface. But when a hero such as Batman's name is known, the public doesn't care that he's trying to help, they only care it's not the police. Their hate flares, and the hero is persecuted more than the villain. It's idiotic.

The Joker at first had wanted to figure out who he was, but throughout the weeks that passed, it became obvious to the Joker: what reason did he have to find out? He was this close to uncovering it when he realized that there wouldn't be any fun in that. If he knew his identity, the Joker could take him down easily in his own home. But once again, that wouldn't be any good. Every hero needs a villain, and one shouldn't defeat the other earlier than need be.

All in all, the Joker's life was a mess, mostly contained in his detrimental mind. He couldn't think like a regular human being anymore, and that made him as dangerous as any monster from your nightmares. His genius combined with such twisted thinking afforded him the ability to devise cruel methods of harmful acts, from minor injury to death. What a puzzle he was, and still is.

Meanwhile at Wayne Manor, I was peacefully contemplating all recent events in my life, swinging gently in a hammock. My eyes were closed, and the breeze delivered a feeling of bliss…which, as per the usual, was interrupted by a certain maverick teen. Dick flipped me out of the hammock, and I landed hard on my side. I got up slowly and painfully, saying, "What in the heck was that for?" Dick interlocked his fingers in front of his face and said, "I have something to show you." "And you expect me to do that after you've bruised the entirety of my left side?" I asked angrily. "Okay," said Dick, shrugging, "I guess I'll just go into the Batcave and admire the work of my hands by myself, then."

I froze and said, "Wait…what did you do?" "Quit worrying," he said, "I didn't blow up anything, if that's what you're thinking." "Well, I'm not sure I trust your word, so I guess I'll have to go with you whether I like it or not," I said. Dick turned on his heel and walked towards the Batcave. I followed, wondering exactly what he had done. I expected to see some kind of garish bat-themed addition to the place, but it was not so. I entered the cavern to see a row of eight foot tall glass cases with racks exactly like that I used for my suit. "When did you make this?" I asked. "Whenever I couldn't sleep," he said, "I've already beaten Halo 3 plenty of times, so I tried something new." I nodded.

I ran my hand over the glass and said, "Where did you get all the stuff to make this?" "Well, actually," said Dick, "you wouldn't believe how much building material and power tools are in your basement. By the way, do you or Alfred happen to know what the warranty on your table saw was?" "What do you mean, was?" I asked. "Nothing at all," said Dick. I sighed, but in spite of myself, I smiled. This was actually pretty cool, considering it's likely that Dick destroyed a table saw. "You know," I said, "it's seems you were hard at work. So why don't we go get something to eat?" "Seriously?" said Dick. "Yeah, sure," I said, "I mean, Alfred's cooking is good, but sometimes you just can't beat a good burger."

Dick and I headed to Danny's Burgers, a burger joint just a few miles down the road from Wayne Manor. As we walked inside, I said, "This was my favorite restaurant as a kid. The guys here know how to make the perfect burger, I'm telling you." "Well, in that case, what are we waiting for?" said Dick, "Let's get some cow!" We got in line, and when we reached the counter, the girl at the register let her jaw drop, saying, "You're…you're…" "Bruce Wayne, yes, he knows," said Dick, "He's a normal guy, though, don't be intimidated." The girl closed her mouth and said, "Okay." "By the way," said Dick, "has anybody told you that you've got some of the cutest freckles I've ever seen?" The girl turned red and asked, "Um, so what would you like?"

We ordered, and as we walked away from the counter, I said, "Why'd you do that?" "I had to," said Dick, "otherwise she wouldn't have stopped. Besides, she really _was _cute." "Down, boy," I said. We walked to a corner booth and sat down. Dick quickly unwrapped his burger and took a long look at it. "This…" he said, "this is the most glorious burger I've ever laid eyes on." "And that's not all," I said, downing a French fry, "Take a bite." Dick took a bite and chewed slowly, and then he said, "Deliciousness like this shouldn't be possible." "I thought the same thing when I had my first burger here," I said. I took a bite out of mine, and a whole ton of memories filled my mind. I remembered coming here with my parents and Alfred, enjoying a good meal with good people. In fact, I ordered a strawberry milkshake for Alfred. He always loved those.

We quickly devoured our meals and went back to the car. On the way back, Dick unleashed a considerably loud belch. "Oh-ho!" I said, "Loose cannon, here!" "Well," said Dick, "I always say that the bigger the volume, the better the food." "True," I said, "but I think I can one-up you." "You want to bet?" said Dick. "No," I said, "But I would like to show you how it's done." As we went down the road, we continually made our burps louder, eventually breaking down in laughter for the rest of the drive. We were still laughing when we reached Wayne Manor. Alfred looked at us and said, "I assume you had a good time?" "Oh, yes," I said, "Here's your milkshake, by the way." "Thank you," said Alfred, taking the shake.

Dick turned at the stairs and faced us, saying, "Well, I'm going to go to my room and start reading Animal Farm. Adieu!" He turned around and walked up the stairs. I smiled and said, "You know, Alfred, Lucius says that Dick is just like I was at his age." Alfred seemed deep in thought for a second, drinking contentedly. Eventually, he said, "Perhaps, Master Wayne, perhaps. He's certainly as mischievous as you were." I laughed and said, "He is not!" "On the contrary," said Alfred, "You gave me more grey hairs than you did your parents." "All right, fine," I said, "I was a little bit like him." "More than a little bit," said Alfred, walking away. I stood where I was, still smiling, still wondering.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII

Escape. It was a concept that lingered in the mind of the Joker, day in, day out. It was a concept, an imperative, essential to his mission on the outside. Formulation of the various methods by which he could do so took up most of his thoughts. He observed guards, cameras, even other inmates. He had already discovered that Harley would at least be part of his way out. He knew that she wanted to be with him, and he didn't want it any other way. They would be lovers in crime. He almost wanted to laugh, but the sound had grown tiresome and stale to his ears. He rid himself of boredom through various and oftentimes stupid ways, to maintain the whole happy façade.

For extreme example, as he was walking through the cell blocks to find another prisoner to mock, he came across Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin. A man with a face reminiscent of Danny DeVito, the Penguin was a corrupt businessman with a strange (some would say sexual) fascination with all things avian. He was called the Penguin for his stature and deformed hands. The Joker stood in front of his cell door and fixed his eyes on the Penguin's feet, dangling over the concrete floor of the cell. The Penguin eventually sneered and said, "What are you looking at?" The Joker looked up with his forever grin and replied, "Oh, your feet. They're just so cute, just…hanging there!" Presently, the Penguin dropped down to the floor and said loudly, "There is nothing _cute _about me!" "Oh, I beg to differ," said the Joker gleefully, looking at the Penguin's height of five feet.

"So, Batman put you here, right?" asked the Joker. "As a matter of fact, he did," said the Penguin resentfully, "What's it to you?" The Joker howled with laughter and said, "What'd you try to do to him? Toss some of your birds at him?" "I shot at him with a Tommy gun!" shouted the Penguin. The Joker doubled over, still laughing, saying, "That must have looked hilarious! I can imagine it now…" The Joker Got down on his knees and started performing mock recoil of a Tommy gun. "Oh," said the Joker, "did you try to shoot out his kneecaps? Wait, of course you did. That was all you could aim for!" "Ah, just shut up and go away, you clown!" shouted the Penguin. "Okay, my tuxedoed friend," said the Joker, "just promise me this: don't let the sea lion get you!" The Penguin charged at his cell door, slamming up against the bars.

The Penguin stood on his tiptoes and shouted after the Joker, "I'll *#$% kill you, I swear! I'll *#$% kill you!" The Joker simply flipped him off and walked away backwards. Turning on his heel at the corner, he went back inside his cell, the guard behind him bewildered at the conversation he just witnessed. As the guard closed the cell door behind the Joker, the Joker sat down, facing the wall, staring once again at the photos pinned to it. The guard, severely unnerved, shuffled back to his regular post. The Joker did admit his enjoyment of his caged home was increasing, but the fact remained that he had to get out. He had to rid the world of those officials who would ruin Gotham. These things paired together meant he had even more reason to let himself get caught. The fun of his mission would eventually end, and so, he would come back here, content.

The next day, he was going to lunch with his henchmen, as usual. The cooking at Arkham was one significant downer. Again, though he was plagued with incurable insanity, he was still somehow refined, and he was sickened by what he had to taste every day. The Penguin was skulking around that day, mumbling angrily. While walking towards a table, he came across Selina Kyle, otherwise known as Catwoman. He stopped and said to her, "Hey, is it true that you were killed and then resurrected by cats?" "No," she said seductively, "I just like cats." She hissed at the Joker, and he raised one eyebrow, walking away, saying, "Okay, then. Guess she's serious about the whole 'Catwoman' thing."

That day at lunch, the Joker and his men were silent. Out of the four of them, none had any reason for this. It was almost as if some grim event was being foreshadowed by still tongues. They simply ate their lunch, no questions or statements or even grunts issued. The Joker was quite honestly scared. Everything was a queer mix. Even guards were shifting constantly, eyes darting throughout the whole of the room. Arkham's darkness fell on the hearts of all present. The Joker restlessly bounced his leg and drummed his fingers, abandoning his lunch. Smiley noticed the Joker's odder than usual behavior and said, "Hey, boss, are you okay?" "No," said the Joker. "Why?" asked Smiley. "Because something seems very wrong," said the Joker.

How right he was. For, as he said this, he was unaware of one guard with his eyes fixed on the back of his head. This guard had been working at Arkham for nearly seven years, waiting on orders from his boss. No, not the warden. This guard had a different, bigger boss. He wasn't the only one. There were more guards under the same employer, but he didn't know who. Their boss was too careful. He was an exile of Gotham, and now he wanted Gotham to pay for it. He had names of people that he would use to exact his revenge. Sure, Joe Chill had heard four of them, and he passed the info onto somebody. But it wasn't like he could do anything now.

The guard approached the Joker, knowing that today was the day that he would fulfill his orders. The Joker, seeing the guard approach him, said, "Let me guess. You've been watching me all day to make sure I wouldn't do anything." The guard didn't respond to the Joker's question, instead saying, "Take the gun afterwards." "After what?" asked the Joker. The guard took his gun and pressed it to his chin. He fired. The guards and other inmates were stunned, not moving. The Joker recovered quicker than most, grabbing the gun and tossing it to Smiley. "Take it," said the Joker, "and use it." "Why don't you, boss?" asked Smiley. "Gun's are lazy," said the Joker, "If weapons were art, a gun would be a Jackson Pollock piece. Besides, I don't have to kill them. You do. Now start shooting!"

Smiley immediately obeyed, rapidly firing at the guards, killing most and severely injuring others. Kami and Chester ran to the dead guards and took their guns, while Smiley grabbed another one as well. They relentlessly opened fire. The Joker took Chester by the arm and said, "Come on. We're going to pick someone up." They headed down the halls, eventually coming across a panicked Harleen Quinzel. She stopped dead in front of the Joker and said, "You're breaking out?" "Yes," said Chester in his northern London accent, "and this guy here has…feelings for you…I guess…so you're coming along." Harley undid her hair, took off her glasses, grinned wide, and said in her New Jersey accent, "Then come here!" She pulled the Joker towards herself, smothering him with kisses.

Chester sighed heavily, watching awkwardly. "Boss," he finally said, tired of the display of psychotic passion he wished he hadn't witnessed. The Joker pushed Harley away, saying, "Right, right. Harley, how's about we finish this later, and focus on getting out now." "Whatever you say," she said giddily. Kami and Smiley ran down towards them, and Kami said, "Are we taking the wench?" "Yes," said the Joker, "and she's not a wench…she's…marginally close to a lady. Maybe a little less…" "Boss, seriously," said Smiley impatiently, "we have to go!" "Of course," said the Joker, "but first, I need to grab something." He ran away, soon returning with a straightjacket. "Why do you need that?" asked Kami. "Because I need a new look," said the Joker, "and this sort of feels comforting now. Now we can go."

They ran down the halls leading towards the exit, Smiley, Kami, and Chester gunning down any guards that got in the way. They eventually burst through the doors with only minutes to spare before a SWAT team arrived. They broke into a car and drove towards a clothing store. Upon entering the store, Smiley fired a round into the air, announcing their presence. The Joker stood on the front counter and shouted, "ALRIGHT, DO YOU PEOPLE CARRY…" At this time, the Joker noticed there was a scared employee hiding underneath the counter. He immediately jumped off the counter and stood in front, acting as if he was a regular customer. He began, "Hey, you, under the counter. I have a question."

The employee shakily stood up, saying, "Yes?" The Joker said, "Do you carry purple pants?" The employee seemed utterly confused. "So," he said, "you're not here for the money in the register?" The Joker laughed heartily and said, "No, of course not! I'm simply here for some of the wares you store here. You know I can't rock this!" He indicated his prison jumpsuit. "Orange," he continued, "It's just…no. So, back to my earlier question, do you happen to have purple pants? You know, the kind you see at weddings, just…in an unorthodox color." The employee gulped and walked towards a rack of pants which were of the kind the Joker mentioned, and in several colors. He pulled out a purple pair, handing it to the Joker. "Ah, yes," he said, "This'll do it. Also, I'm going to take a look at the shoes you have here…"

After the Joker got all his things, his henchmen also decided to update their garb. Chester went for a British greaser look, with a leather jacket and black leather shoes to boot. Kami took a tuxedo and leather shoes as well. Smiley, however, went to another place that sold combat fatigues, of which he took a black set. The Joker had cut the sleeves of his straightjacket to the elbows and spray-painted it purple, putting a flower in it as well. After he let it dry, he donned his new clothes and said to his entourage, "Alright, next stop: a costume store!"

They went to the best costume store in Gotham, the Joker grabbing a Cheshire Cat mask for Chester, a smiley-face mask for Smiley, and a mask depicting an anime-style character smiling for Kami. As well as that, he grabbed makeup and hair-dye. He went to the restroom and came back with red makeup smeared on his mouth in the shape of a smile, white makeup all over his face, and green hair. His henchmen all stared. The Joker said, "Oh, come on! I'm the Joker! This is perfect! Now, Harley!" Harley had nearly been forgotten by the rest of the group. The Joker beckoned her forward and examined her face. He eventually put on a voice like that of a male fashion designer and said, "Oh, no, this won't do at all! How about a little makeup?"

The Joker immediately began working on her face, applying white makeup on the majority and black around her eyes, finishing with black lipstick. "That's it!" he said, "Alright, and finally: guns!" He squawked and ran like an ostrich out the door, skidding to a stop just outside. They went to a gun store where Smiley took a pair of Colt .45s, Chester took a sniper rifle, and Kami took a sub-machine gun and a katana. All geared up, they exited the store, knowing they wouldn't have to wait long for the police to arrive. "Alright, boys and girl," said the Joker, "It's time for us to disappear for a while!" They ran down an alley towards the inner parts of the city, the Joker already thinking of his mission ahead, and how it should be executed.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII

I had just woken up when I heard banging on my bedroom door and Dick saying, "DUDE! GET OUT OF THERE!" I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and opened the door, saying, "What the heck, man? I've only had three hours of sleep!" "You'll want to see this," said Dick. He led me to the TV, rewinding the news. "How long have you been up?" I asked. "Since Bleach was on," he replied, "I decided to see what was going on in the news, and I found this." He played the news, and the news anchor said, "The criminal known as the Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum along with Harold Barren, Joseph Wellsley, Masashi Ryukyu, and psychiatrist Harleen Quinzel." I was immediately woken up by the shock of this news. "Fine time to release this," I said. "Well, you know," said Dick, "crazy clown guy running loose around Gotham, they wouldn't want to worry anyone…too soon."

I rubbed my face, sighing, then saying, "Great. Just great." Dick looked at me and said, "I figure you should suit up and see what you can do." "No," I said, "The Joker's too smart. He won't try anything in broad daylight. He's probably laying low." "Still," said Dick, undeterred, "somebody has to be Batman." I nodded, walking to the Bat-Cave and changing into the Batman suit. Little did I know that Dick was behind me at the computers with a headset on. Suddenly, I heard this: "TESTING, ONE, TWO, THREE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" I jumped and turned around. There was Dick, nodding satisfactorily, arms crossed. "That'll work," he said. He turned and sat down on the swivel chair in front of the computers, putting his feet on the desk. "What do you mean, 'that'll work'?" I asked indignantly. "Oh," said Dick, "I thought, hey, the guy's probably stressed, navigating the city by himself. So I came to the conclusion that I could act as your mission control, of sorts."

I stared at him for a long time, eventually saying, "Well, knowing you, you'll do it anyway whether I like it or not, so go ahead." "WOO-HOO!" he shouted, nearly shredding my eardrums. I cringed and said, "Don't shout when you have that thing on!" He grimaced, saying, "Sorry." I walked to the Batmobile, ears ringing, and got in. I rocketed out of the Bat-Cave, opening the gate before I smashed it. I turned left onto the road, heading towards the city. When I reached a place that was well hidden, I parked the Batmobile. But it's not like anyone could've stolen it. I'm almost ashamed to say I got a laugh out of watching a carjacker get shocked by the door handle. Remember I said _almost_. I traversed the rooftops, scanning the ground below me for any activity. Suddenly, I heard Dick say, "Hey, some politician's office was broken into a few minutes ago. His name is Antonio Guile." "Was he killed?" I asked. "No," said Dick, "but the place was ransacked, and there are a few files and such missing." "Right, I'm on it," I said, heading for the address Dick gave me.

When I reached the place, I saw that the window was broken in, and the roof of the building next to it was at the right angle to make a zip-line. I went through the window, noticing a few police officers were present, including Jim Gordon. A couple of them saw me, drawing their guns. Jim stepped out in front of them and said, "Wait. He's okay." "What do we have here?" I asked. "Well," said Jim, "There's not much. I mean, aside from that." He pointed towards the wall opposite from the window. The bookshelf was opened like a door, leading into a file room. While it wasn't uncommon for people like this to have secret rooms in Gotham, it was made strange by what Jim told me next. "There was an entire drawer-full of files taken from one spot in the room," said Jim.

I walked inside it. Like he said, there was an entire drawer missing, with a card in place. It was a Bicycle joker card. "Why am I not surprised?" I said, "Wait a second. There's something on the back." I turned the card over, where a tiny envelope was pasted on the back. I opened it up. There was a paper with a haphazard signature saying COMPLIMENTS OF THE JOKER. I unfolded the paper, revealing eight letters with the font of a file title: Perriman. Jim said, "Let me see that." I handed it over to him. He sighed upon reading it and said, "I know that name. Vernon Perriman was a British guy that came to Gotham for a large auction. Two days after the auction ended, he was found dead, presumably by a heart attack. There was one problem with that, though." "What?" I asked. "Our buddy Vernon," said Jim, "regularly ran marathons and had finished the Tour de France once before. A heart attack? Yeah, right."

"So, what does this have to do with Guile?" I asked. "Well," said Jim, "as you know, in an auction, there's always those two guys who go back and forth trying to pay more for an item than the other. In this instance, Perriman and Guile were those two guys. Perriman won. By this point, Guile had already been suspected of premeditated and planned murder, but as always, nothing good as evidence goes turned up." "I get it," I said, "The Joker is trying to prove that Guile killed Perriman, and then kill him. My guess is he'll leave the evidence at the scene." "We'll see," said Jim. Suddenly, we heard an officer yell, "Hey, boss! I found something!" We walked over to the officer, and he held in his hand a video tape. The same signature that was on the paper was present on the tape.

"Do we have anything to play this with?" I asked. "Probably in one of the conference rooms," said Jim. We headed down the hallway and into one of the said conference rooms, placing the tape in the VCR. Thank God people still use those. The tape began with a close-up of the Joker's face and the tail end of a sentence, "…thing on? Okay, there we go." The Joker took the camera out further to show his whole face. The whole room was pitch black except for the light on the camcorder. The Joker began, "I would have put this on a DVD, but call me old-fashioned, I couldn't resist putting it on this! You've already discovered that the Perriman files are missing. Let me tell you, this guy, Guile, is stupid. He should've burned these, 'cause boy howdy, they're juicy! At this point, they're only circumstantial evidence on their own, but I'm working on it! Soon, you'll see Tony Guile for what he really is, and what his blood looks like!"

The tape ended, and Jim pulled it out slowly, his face a grim mask. "Where's Guile now?" I asked. "A party downtown, I think," said Jim. "I'll find him," I said. "What're you going to do?" asked Jim as I left the room. "I'm going to have a little talk with him," I replied. I jumped out the same window I came through, swinging on a streetlight and landing on a car. I pushed a button on my gauntlet that called the Batmobile to my location. Within five minutes it arrived, and I jumped in immediately. "Dick," I said, "what's the address to the party Guile is attending, and…what's that crunching sound?" "Oh," said Dick, "It's popcorn. There's nothing to do down here, really, so…"

I sighed and said, "Never mind. What's the address?" He rapidly gave me the location, and I sped towards it, knowing that it could mean that Guile would be incarcerated or he'll be killed. I reached the party, quickly hopping out of the car. I entered the building, pushing past the guy with the list at the front, who simply stepped aside. As I went through the front doors, the music at the back died down, and the sounds of debauchery became nervous murmurs. I stood in the middle of the room and yelled, "WHERE'S ANTONIO GUILE?" The crowd parted to reveal a sweating and shaking Guile. I sprang towards him and grabbed him by his shirt collar. I practically dragged him out of the building, amid his protests, until I eventually said, "SHUT UP!" He did so.

I led him to the back of a dark alley, shoving him forward with his back towards me. I fired my grappling hook to the roof of the building over us and pulled myself to it as he said, "What is this all about? I can give you money, if that's what you want. And I mean a lot of…" He turned at that moment, noticing that I wasn't there. He gulped and spun around, looking for me. "I don't want your money," I said gravely. "Then what do you want?!" Guile sobbed. I dropped behind him and whispered in his ear, "I want to know about Perriman." He jumped, turned around, and scrambled backwards, falling. I stood over him. He held up his hands and said, "Look, just don't kill me. I have no idea what you're talking about." "They all say that," said Dick, messing me up, "it's the biggest cliché on the planet." "Shut up, Dick," I said. Guile lowered his hands and said, "I'm sorry, what did you just call me?" "Never mind that," I said.

I grabbed him by his collar again and put him against the wall, sticking a batarang into his jacket, pinning him. I grabbed another one and drew it across his face, lightly nicking his cheek. "Now," I said, "I'm not going to reiterate myself: did you order the murder of Vernon Perriman?" "NO!" he shouted. I stuck the sharp side of the batarang against his neck, making sure it was just below the pressure needed to break the skin. "No, I didn't order his death! It was an associate of mine, he wanted revenge on him for something else! I let him because I just didn't want to make him angry!" I growled, "Who wanted him dead?" "If I tell you," he said, "he'll do much worse to me than you could ever!" I left him hanging from the wall. He was so scared he didn't say a word. As I got inside the Batmobile, I replayed the recording I had gotten of his confession. "Hey, Dick," I said, "can you burn that onto a CD?" "Yeah," said Dick, "I'll get right on it."

There was something wrong, though. If Guile didn't order the killing, and the only reason he let it go was because he was scared, why would he keep files that would incriminate him as an accessory? I headed back to Wayne Manor, still pondering the question. As I pulled into the Bat-Cave, Dick ran towards me and took off the headset. When I reached him, he held up a CD. "Burned and ready to hand to the police," he said. "All right, send it to them," I said. "Will do," he said. I changed into my regular clothes and went inside the house. I turned on the news. It was breaking that the Batman had pinned Tony Guile by his sports jacket to a wall. I couldn't resist smiling. Of course, this didn't earn me any points in the public eye, but all it meant was I'd have to be a little more discreet.

That night, I poured myself a shot of Jack Daniel's. Knocking it back, I thought about the day as a whole. I put the glass down and absentmindedly spun it, still thinking. Dick came in a few minutes later, an A&W in hand. "Pretty productive day," he said. I nodded and said, "I suppose. There are a few things that don't fit though." "Like what?" asked Dick. I regaled my suspicions. "That _is _odd," said Dick, "but hey, don't worry about it yet. There's still progress." "True," I said, "but the biggest question of all: who was his 'associate'?" Dick shrugged and said, "No idea, but from the way he was acting, he must be a heavy-hitter." I stopped spinning the glass, saying, "I think I might know." "Who?" said Dick. Across town, unbeknownst to me, a British man was on a rooftop across from a party put together by Guile's associate, loading his sniper rifle. As he put in a round, I walked out of the room and said, "He's Carmine Falcone."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER XIV

Joseph Wellsley had been putting sniper rounds into enough heads that he knew exactly what do to in order to take out his target. He maintained a timed, steady breathing pace, along with a heart monitor to make sure that was nice and slow. Winds weren't terribly bad that day, making the job just a little easier. His com-link buzzed and he heard, "Chester, you ready?" "Almost, boss," he said, "Give me just one…second." He locked in his round, keeping his eyes closed until he was given the word. His target wasn't Carmine Falcone, though. The Joker would handle him. His target was still one of the heads of the crime families in Gotham, however. And he would soon be delivering a speech. Kami had already gotten inside disguised as a guard. Smiley was making sure no one got to Chester. Harley was driving the getaway car.

Joseph only had to wait a few minutes before his target was up in the middle of the room, raising his glass. The Joker said, "Alright, that's your cue." Joseph opened his eyes to see his target. He breathed in and out a few times, eventually firing on his fourth exhale. The target's head snapped to the side, blood spurting out of both temples. The room erupted in horror as Joseph continued firing, effectively killing most of the guards, leaving the few that were left to Kami. They were no problem. It was the Joker's stage now. The Joker walked towards the center of the room, disguised as a waiter, his makeup off. As he stepped over the dead bodies, he would lean towards random people and say, "Hors d'oeuvres?" Eventually he tossed the tray of mini crab cakes he was holding into someone's face, afterwards carefully walking to the table where Carmine Falcone was seated.

Carmine smirked and said, "What's with the smile?" "Oh, I'm just a very happy man," said the Joker. Carmine laughed and pulled out a compact .45. The Joker also laughed, gesturing towards Kami to begin laughing as well. The Joker abruptly stopped and wrenched the gun out of Carmine's hand, breaking Carmine's wrist. The Joker pointed the gun at the faces of everyone around Carmine in turn, eventually zeroing in on Carmine. "You want to know what I think about guns?" said the Joker. Carmine didn't answer. "Well," continued the Joker, "they're not much fun." As he said this, Kami tossed him a corkscrew. The Joker deftly caught it and slammed it into Carmine's head. Those surrounding him scrambled away, terrified. "I'm surprised at you guys," said the Joker, looking at them and disassembling the gun, "I mean, most of you are mob, aren't you? I guess people really are afraid of clowns."

One of them eventually stuttered, "Y-y-you killed him!" The Joker sniffed and said, "Sorry, who?" He turned towards Carmine and smacked his forehead. He turned back around and said, "Oh, HIM! Yeah, I must've mistaken him for a bottle of wine. You wouldn't believe how many times that's happened with other people." With that, he downed a glass of champagne left by the others and began to walk out, with Kami in tow. He let Kami go out first, turning around and closing the double doors at the same time, shouting, "CARRY ON!" A minute after he left he came back in and said, "Nearly forgot." He took out his wallet and began rummaging through it, muttering, "This is embarrassing." Eventually, he said, "Ah. Here's my card." He placed a Bicycle brand joker card on the floor. Exiting, he said, "Give Jim Gordon my regards! And this!" He threw a file backwards, making it land next to his 'card'.

One of the terrified party members gingerly took up the file and opened it as the police arrived. It was evidence concerning Carmine's life of crime. But, as it were, I wasn't actually there. Though I realized that the Joker was going after Falcone first, I was closer to Antonio Guile's house. I had been watching closely since the moment I'd gotten there, but nothing happened for a long time. I stayed on his roof until morning. And then I stayed another day. Still nothing. But I had to stay. I knew that _something _would happen to Guile. Eventually he left his house, which meant, of course, that I had to follow him through the alleys with the Batmobile. He was nervous the whole way, looking this way and that. He arrived at his office, the Batmobile and I only a second behind. He walked inside, and I climbed the building to his office window.

I must add one thing before I get to the chase. Though the police had attempted to convict Guile, once again he hired expert lawyers, and he claimed that he only confessed out of fear. He was in the process of cutting a deal that would entail his testimony for lenience. It helped him that he also had the judge paid off. Anyway, I got in and hid myself in the corner. I stayed stock still as Guile entered. He was carrying a parcel. He opened it up, revealing a digital watch. I immediately realized what it was and lunged forward as he put it on, shouting, "STOP!" It was too late. The watch blew up on his wrist, launching his hand across the room and spraying blood all over. He screamed and covered the bloody stump that was in place of his hand. I tore off his jacket and ripped off the sleeve, wrapping it around the stump. I contacted the nearest hospital and had an ambulance come by. It quickly arrived, taking Guile to the hospital.

Looking for the parcel, I noticed it still wasn't empty. I checked, and there was a file with evidence that Guile had let all the crimes he'd been accused of go, as they were all actually committed by his many 'associates'. There was a tape as well. I went into the conference room once again, playing the tape. The Joker's face appeared on the screen. He said, "HI! How're you folks doing tonight? Good? Good. Now, as you might have realized, the Perriman files never existed. Of course, I figured it really was connected to Guile, so I knew you would go for it. But anyway, I'm going to clear something else up. You thought I would kill Guile, didn't you. Well, sorry, someone else is going to bite the big one. Remember that I said you would see what his blood looks like. I imagine there will be enough for you to thoroughly observe. Really, all Guile is guilty of is being a moronic coward. I think losing a hand might teach him a lesson, along with jail. Alright then, I'm going to take a nap. All this filming has me tired. Bye-bye!"

The tape ended, and I pulled it out, reflecting on what he said and wallowing in my failure. I somberly returned to Wayne Manor, once again pouring myself a glass of Jack Daniel's. Dick came in, saying, "You look like you just got laid off." "Yeah, that's great," I said, "I really could use that, thank you, Dick." "I'll be here if you need me," said Dick. I sighed and said, "I guess I just feel like I'm not doing a good job. I mean, I got complacent. I got careless. I got overconfident." I finished my glass and continued, "I just didn't do it right." "Oh, come on," said Dick, "Stop with the pity party! You're Batman! And that's awesome! You might not have done it right now, but you've done it right enough that this shouldn't bring you down! I mean, all the little kids in Gotham love you, even if you're scary and hated by their parents." "Yeah, that's helping," I said sarcastically.

Dick sighed and continued, "Well, you are. But even with that, you're someone to look up to for them. I mean, if not you, then who? The police, which, by the way, has many employees who're corrupt? Or Guile? No. You might be a bat, but you're a light for this place. You _are_ helping. You're no failure." "You should go into public speaking," I said. He shrugged. I turned towards him and said, "And how do you know that kids look up to me?" He turned and walked away, saying, "Because I look up to you." I looked at the floor, letting it sink in. I mulled it over. A minute later Dick came back in and began to say something, but I preempted, "No, you can't help me out there." He sighed and said, "I really meant that, you know." "I know," I said, "But that's why I can't let you. I wouldn't want you to get hurt." "Softie," said Dick as he walked away yet again. I chuckled lightly.

I was still sitting there when Alfred eventually came up to me and said, "Shall I gather some blankets and a pillow for you, Master Wayne?" "What?" I said. "Well," continued Alfred, "It looks to me like you're going to stay here for quite some time." I looked at the clock, which read ten thirty. I raised my eyebrows and said, "I guess I just got lost in my thoughts. But, uh, no, Alfred, I don't think I'm going to sleep just yet." "Very well then, Master Wayne," said Alfred. He walked away, and I put on a jacket and went outside on the lawn, sitting down on the grass and staring at the night sky. A few minutes into it, Dick came out of the house, saying, "Amateur astronomer _and _nightly crime-fighter? You must be a big hit for the ladies." I said, "Real funny, Grayson." Dick sat down next to me and said, "So, you come here often?" "Yes," I said, "It was a sort of tradition for me and my parents. We would always come out here and just look at the stars, marveling at…at just how amazing they are. And to think, they're just gigantic balls of gas." I sighed, reliving those happy memories.

I pointed at one star and said, "You see that? That's the north star. I remember feeling like the luckiest kid in the world when my dad told me about it." "Yeah," said Dick, "I felt the same way when my dad suggested a book to me." "Is that so?" I asked, "Tell me about it." "Well," said Dick, "like I said, when you live on a train, there isn't much to do except read. I had read The Iliad by the time I was ten. I went right through To Kill a Mockingbird when I was fourteen. And every time, my dad was the one who told me to read it. And every time, I felt like I was on top of the world. When you're a kid, your dad is the smartest person ever, you know? He's this big, strong guy who takes care of you every day without fail. That's how it should be, at least. I'm just glad that I had him for so long. You didn't get that chance." "I may have had my dad for only ten years," I said, "but it felt like an eternity. And a great one, at that." Dick yawned and said, "Okay, all the emotion has gotten to me. I'm going to bed." He left me sitting outside, allowing me to think about those amazing ten years.

Meanwhile, a far less touching scene was occurring in a run-down building where five criminals were hiding out. Masashi Ryukyu was playing a game of chess with Joseph Wellsley, Harleen Quinzel was touching up the white makeup on her face, Harold Barren was diligently sharpening his combat knife, and the Joker walked into the room wearing a purple jogger's suit. He began speaking in a loud voice, "That nap was invigorating! Granted, as this particular article of sidewalk athlete attire was made for a woman, it was slightly uncomfortable in the uncharted regions, but nevertheless it was great! I feel like a new clown!" No one showed any response to what he'd just said except for Masashi, who said, "Boss, could you please keep it down a little bit? I need to concentrate." The Joker was taken aback.

He walked to Masashi and said in an even louder tone, "REALLY? YOU NEED TO CONCENTRATE? LET ME TELL YOU BUDDY, THERE ARE, AT THIS MOMENT…" He looked towards the chess board and then back towards Masashi. He continued, "THREE WAYS YOU COULD CHECKMATE THE BRIT!" He stopped and said, "But really, my people, I have something to discuss. The next target is going to be a fun one…" That got their attention.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER XV

Carmine Falcone's death didn't really cause many to cry. It wasn't like he was a civil servant, anyway. But it was troubling in that it meant the Joker knows what he's doing. He's good enough to kill one of the biggest mob bosses in America. With such a bold move, I knew he would be more dangerous than anything I'd ever faced. And the worst part: I didn't know who he was targeting next. There were so many variables to consider. Nonetheless, I began conducting my own investigation. This meant I had even less time to relax or even sleep, which resulted in an exhausted Batman. I had already been looked at as if I was drunk several times, as I might have appeared that way. But I still worked, coffee mug almost continually in hand, with a reserve of 5-Hour Energy on standby. One day while I was in the Bat-Cave (and I had been there a couple of days; what sleep I could get was on the floor), Dick came in.

He walked up behind me and said, "Hey, are you alive in here?" I turned in my chair and said, "Yes." Dick raised his eyebrows and said, "Really? Because it looks to me like you're undead. Be warned, I may have to decapitate you when you call for my brains." "You're a master comedian," I said wearily. "You're a veritable fountain of compliments," said Dick. I said nothing, instead returning to my work. Dick walked up beside me and said, "So, anything?" "Well," I said, "I might have a couple of leads on a few of them, but you've seen how smart the Joker is. He's probably done way more than I have. What's worse, he was right. If I'm onto anything, these guys are above practically nothing. And all of them are fairly big names. If the first attack was Falcone, the Joker is focusing on more important figures. There's no good way to figure out which one he'll go for next."

Dick leaned closer to the computer screens, saying, "Well, can't you just see what they're doing? I mean, surely, there's something they'll do this week that'd expose them." "I've already tried that," I said, "but like I said, these are some _big _names. They've got events that would expose them all over the place. And since it's likely the Joker doesn't follow a pattern, there's no predicting to be done." Dick looked around and saw a file on the computer. He said, "What about that guy?" I looked, and he was pointing towards Harvey Dent's file. "I don't know," I said, "He seems clean. I mean, people are calling him the 'White Knight of Gotham'. The man's above reproach. I've called everybody who knows him, including Jim Gordon. They all say he can be trusted." "Doesn't mean he really can," said Dick. "Well," I said, "I'm willing to take the chance."

I worked and worked all the day. Alfred eventually came in and said, "Master Wayne, people will start believing you're a hermit of some sort if you stay down here any longer, myself included." "Did Dick send you down here?" I asked. "No," Alfred replied, "I just don't want anybody to happen by here and think we have a dead body." He walked away while I sniffed myself, cringing. "I guess I do need to get out of here," I said. I stood up, realizing almost too late that my legs were asleep. I caught myself, leaning on the chair and stretching. I walked out into the fresh air and then into the house. As I walked past Dick, he keeled over. "Real funny," I said. Dick snickered, lying on the floor. I took a shower, letting the water run over my face and nearly falling asleep standing up.

I put on fresh clothes, lying down on my bed and letting myself sink into the blankets. _It's good to be rich, _I thought. I stayed down for a long time, letting myself rest. Eventually, of course, I had to get up and around, seeing as how there was still work to be done. Dick noticed me coming out of my room and said, "He lives." "Yeah," I said, "but I'm going to have to go back into the Bat-Cave." "Well, in that case," said Dick, "take this." He tossed me a bottle of Febreze. I nodded towards him and said, "Okay, then." I walked to the Bat-Cave, descending to the computers. I actually stood in the middle of the cave for a long time, as there was a bat hanging upside-down from one the arms on the swivel chair. It seemed to be a baby. I slowly approached the chair, jumping back when the baby twitched. I steeled myself, sitting down on the chair.

The bat didn't move the whole time. A few times, I glanced at it, seeing if it was doing anything. It sneezed a couple times, but other than that, it just hung there by its tiny feet, a funny little animal. _Why was I ever afraid of these guys?_ I thought. I worked in peace, the baby bat peacefully sleeping underneath my arm. Evidence was rather fleeting, and the leads had dissapated save a choice few. It took me several hours, but I finally narrowed it down to two people. The one I decided would be worth checking out, though, was a former Frenchman named Henri Bouviac. Henri had moved from France to Gotham as a man in his twenties wanting to be a politician. Unfortunately, this particular Frenchman wasn't exactly a saint. His dealings were at best crooked, and like every other guy on the Joker's possible hit list, he had lawyers and paid off officials to help him worm his way through everything.

Dick entered the Bat-Cave as I prepared to find Henri. I was in the middle of putting on the Batman suit when he said, "Going out?" "Yeah," I said, walking past him. "Are you taking the Batmobile?" he asked. "No," I replied, "The guy I'm finding is French. I'm taking the Rolls-Royce so he won't notice me at first. I'm doing this one with a certain…finesse." "Well, you're certainly the first guy I've met whose idea of interrogation involves finesse," said Dick, "Kudos." I walked out of the Bat-Cave, getting in the car, and went to the city. Henri had had an office for a long time, and pretty much everyone knew where it was. I snuck in through the window, as was my custom, and sat in his swivel chair, turning it so when he walked in, my back would be to him. _I've always wanted to do this, _I thought. Henri eventually walked in. I purposely put my hand out far enough that he would see it. He said, "E-excuse me, who are you and what are doing here?" I took my time to reply, turning the chair and standing up.

I vaulted over his desk and got a centimeter away from his face, saying, "I'm seeing if you're going to be killed by the Joker." I closed the door and locked it, continuing, "So let's talk." Henri gulped. He sat in his chair, and I stayed standing, not breaking eye contact. "What do want to know?" Henri asked. "Oh," I said, "I don't think I can just ask you. It might take a little persuasion." Henri gulped again and said, "Look, I can give you quite a sum of money. Maybe we can make a deal…" I interrupted, saying, "Save it! I've already been offered money once, and let me tell you something…" I got up close to him again and finished, "I, unlike your 'friends', don't take bribes." Henri shut up and quaked.

It was an eventful happening. At one point in time, Henri was even upside-down. But even so, I discovered that day that Frenchmen are good at resisting (wait, I should have already known that). Henri didn't budge. Fortunately, though, I'd already given the other name to the police, and they were covering his house right now. After leaving Henri's office, I still followed him. I followed him all the way to his house. And I stayed even longer than I had at Guile's. But still, nothing. Fatigue began to take over on day four, and I had to go back to Wayne Manor. On arriving, I went inside the Bat-Cave and took off the suit, at one point glancing towards the Batmobile. The color on the hood was slightly off. My eyes widened in realization and I went into the house.

I stormed to Dick's room and banged on the door. Dick opened the door and said, "What?" I seethed and said, "Did you take the Batmobile on a joyride?" Dick paused and said, "You noticed the color, didn't you?" "Yes," I replied. "Yeah," said Dick, "I took it out for a little spin. But I hit a bird. Sorry. It was…difficult to clean." I didn't know how to respond for a few seconds. Eventually I sighed and said, "At least you're all right. But seriously though, pick a better thing to take a joyride in. I have a Veyron! I have a Diablo! I have a Kawasaki ZX-14!" Dick stopped me and said, "Wait. A Kawasaki ZX-14?" I calmed down and said, "Um, yes. I got it for my birthday back in 2006." "Can I see it?" asked Dick. I said, "You know what? I haven't used it in a long time. OK." We went to the garage.

I took off the tarp that had been on the bike for a long time. Dick looked at it for a long time, saying, "Wow. That's awesome." With its exaggerated tailpipes, smooth design, and black-and-red paintjob, I agreed with Dick. "Do you mind if I take this one out for a spin?" I shrugged and said, "May as well. Though I warn you, it's your problem if you hit a bird." Dick shrugged and said, "I think I'm okay with that." I left Dick with the keys and went back inside. Alfred walked up to me and said, "Are you sure that was the right decision, leaving him with that motorcycle?" I looked at Alfred and said, "Well, he managed to handle the Batmobile well enough, so I figure it'll be fine." "Whatever you say, then," said Alfred. I waited for Dick for at least an hour before he came back. He walked in with helmet hair and a wide grin.

I said, "So, how was it?" He smiled even wider and said, "Great. I took it through downtown, and I think there might've been a couple of girls that wanted my number after that. Course, I was going too fast to give it to them. Life is a cruel mistress." He walked to his room without another word, and I smiled, walking back to the Bat-Cave to continue working. I had a police scanner by my side. Thirty minutes in, it lit up and I heard a voice saying, "All available units, we have a situation at Henri Bouviac's house. Someone's broken into his house." I quickly donned the Batman suit and hopped into the Batmobile, speeding towards Henri's house. It was times like those that I wish the Joker was more extravagant, times where I wished that he would stay at his crimes longer. But it was not so.

Over at Henri's house, Henri was backing away from a terrifying maniac clown, who was saying, "I'm about to show you why people are afraid of clowns." The Joker lunged too quickly for Henri to avoid, and he found himself grabbed by the hair, being dragged to a mirror. The Joker stopped in front of the mirror and slammed Henri's head into it, breaking the glass and severely cutting Henri's face. The Joker held a file next to Henri's bloodied face and said, "This is evidence of all the money laundering you do. It's really too bad no one's going to be able to pay bail." The Joker left the file on a table and grabbed a pair of scissors, bringing them to Henri's neck. "If I'm lucky," said the Joker, "the coroner's report will say you ran with these." He closed the scissors. After cleaning himself up, he left his 'card' on the table next to the file.

Meanwhile, I was severely regretting that I left my post. Unfortunately, we had to chalk this one up to low manpower. The majority of the police force was working on different cases and didn't have time to stop anything. We found Henri with blood covering him. The Joker was obviously watching me until I left. My inexperience cost yet another life. I decided that I should go to Lucius again to ask about it. I was internally wondering if the Joker would win.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER XVI

My mind was clouded by thoughts of failure and disappointment, all directed towards myself. _I really thought I could protect everyone,_ I thought, _regardless of what they'd done in the past. Look where that's gotten me. _But still, I knew I had to carry on, otherwise it would be all for naught and Batman would go down in history as the coward in Gotham pretending to be a hero. So instead of just giving up, I went to Wayne Enterprises to talk with Lucius. When I got there, Lucius let me in, and I looked him in the eye and said, "Lucius, I don't think I'm a hero." Lucius shrugged and said, "Well, look at it this way, Bruce: in reality, no one is. They call a war hero a war hero because he shot a few guys or stole something from his enemy. That was just his job. It's the same with firemen and police officers and even you. While they are doing good, they're just doing their job, or in your case what you know you should do. There really aren't any heroes. There are just those who do evil and those who do good." I looked down at the floor.

His statement gave me new perspective, and I moved on, saying, "Do you have any good tracking devices I can use? I figure it's better than sitting on roofs for three or more days." Lucius laughed and said, "Indeed, I do. Just like always, I knew you'd need them eventually, so I've been working on these babies for a few days now." He held up a small bottle of a clear liquid. I raised my eyebrows and said, "This? This is what you're using as a tracking device?" He said, "Well, it's more like a tracking substance. It naturally emits a signal that can be picked up by this." He held up a device about the size of a Samsung Galaxy S4. No, it _was _a Samsung Galaxy S4. "Is that an app?" I asked. "Yep," he said, handing it to me, "Drink the stuff in here." He handed me the bottle, and I hesitated. I downed it, resisted the urge to gag. Upon swallowing it, I said, "That is terrible. Can't you at least work on the flavor?" "No," said Lucius, "but you should see the signal right about…now." I looked down at the phone, seeing a small red blip exactly where I was.

"So how long does this stuff stay in your system?" I asked. "A few days," said Lucius, "Probably more than enough time to survey whoever you're investigating. Just pour the stuff in their drink, and all they'll notice is the taste is a little off." I nodded and said, "Not bad. How much do you have?" Lucius brought over a suitcase, opening it. There was about eighty bottles of the stuff. "That'll do it, I think," I said, "Thank you." As I left, Lucius said, "By the way, Bruce: you may not be a hero, but like I've said before, you're doing good. Don't give up on yourself." I nodded and walked out, going back to Wayne Manor. Upon arriving, Dick looked towards the suitcase and said, "What's that? And where'd you get a Galaxy S4?" "Oh, it's from Lucius," I said. I told him how it worked and showed him the stuff. "Okay," said Dick, "but if you stick that in my Coke, I'll notice." "It would certainly keep you from going on any more joyrides," I said. "I'm not going to live that down, am I?" said Dick. I said, "I think not." He sighed and walked to his room.

I went to Alfred and said, "So, how's it been? I haven't really stopped to talk to you in a while." "Oh, quite alright, Master Wayne," said Alfred, "no harm done. I understand what it's like to be overwhelmed with one's work. But to answer your question, it's been quite different, however not unpleasantly so. It's certainly become more exciting around here, and Master Grayson has given me enough to do. Speaking of which, no one should ever realize that there were any avian entrails on the Batmobile's hood after the cleaning I gave it." "Well," I said, "Sometimes it just takes a butler's touch, I guess." "If that isn't the truth, then I don't know what is, Master Wayne," said Alfred, smiling. I laughed and said, "You know, you've said he's like me. Give me some examples, come on." Alfred smirked and said, "Oh, I can think of a few." I waited for Alfred to begin, and I wasn't disappointed.

He expounded with many events from my first ten years of life that brought a reminiscent smile to my face. It turns out I was quite possibly _more _mischievous than Dick. We continued with this conversation for a long time, until Dick ran in, saying frantically, "Guys, Lucius is on the phone. Something big has come up." I stood up and gestured for the phone. He handed it to me and I said, "What's up, Lucius?" Lucius replied, "Turn on the news." I walked into the TV room and turned it on, seeing the anchorman saying, "…tape the police received was addressed to the vigilante known as Batman. Commissioner Gordon refuses to comment. Meanwhile, we're still awaiting reports on…" I turned off the TV, saying to Lucius, "Thanks." I hung up and looked towards Dick and Alfred, saying, "I'm heading to the police. Dick, to the Batcave!" Dick furrowed his brow and said, "Why did you say that? You sound like a superhero from the 1930s." "I don't know," I said, "I guess it just sort of spur-of-the-moment." Dick shook his head and said, "It still doesn't make any sense." I shrugged.

We quickly went to the Batcave, Dick and I deftly donning a headset and the Batman suit, respectively. I hopped into the Batmobile, stopping from closing it to say, "No popcorn this time." Dick sighed and said, "Alright then." I closed the Batmobile and drove away, while Dick, unbeknownst to me, took the microphone away from his face and Sour Patch Kids out of his pocket, saying, "This'll have to do." He put his feet up on the desk and popped a blue Sour Patch Kid into his mouth while I drove towards the police HQ. Upon arriving, I walked straight up to Jim and said, "Where's the tape?" "We were waiting for you," said Jim, "We have it set up in the next room." I walked in onto the image of the Joker sitting on a barstool and dressed like Jack Torrance. "Play it," said Jim. The first words to exit the Joker's mouth were, "HEEEEEEEERE'S JOKER! Just a little The Shining reference for you, there. Anyway, I wanted to get pleasantries out of the way. So, Batman, how are things? I've been good. I'm going to give you the lay of the land." Somehow, in that moment, his smile became even creepier.

The Joker went on to say, "It's occurred to me, Batman, that we haven't met outside of Arkham yet! And no, when you met the Red Hood at Augere, that wasn't technically me. So put that out of your mind. I think now is a good time to meet. And, as a matter of fact, I happen to be at Augere! How 'bout that! Now, I'm sure you already know I'm not hiding out here, it would be too obvious. Also, I'll tell you how I'm choosing my victims. Smiley, bring it out!" Smiley proceeded to wheel in…a pachinko ball game. "See?" said the Joker, "Random. Wherever the ball lands, that's who bites it. You were lucky to figure it out these last couple of times." My understanding of how erratic the Joker really was broadened. He continued, "Anyway, I want you to meet me here at your earliest convenience. I'll be waiting." I looked towards Jim and said, "Don't come with me. The Joker has no fears. The situation will just get worse." "Fine," said Jim, "but be careful." "When am I not?" I said, walking away.

I went to the Augere building, noting that Kami was on the roof, rifle loaded. I knew there wasn't any way for me to disarm him, so I was forced to go inside. I found the Joker in the same position he was in the video. He looked towards me and said, "Sorry. I told you I'd wait. I'm afraid the entirety of my body from the neck down is asleep. Push me over." "What?" I said. "Push me over," said the Joker, "Come on, I know you've been thinking it. This'll be fun." I gingerly approached the Joker and did as he said. He landed on his left arm, yelling, "WAKEY, WAKEY, NERVES!" It was severely strange and awkward, as you would expect. A minute later, the Joker stood up saying, "Alright. That's better. Now we can talk." He assumed an offensive karate position, his face a mask of psychotic glee and determination. I went into my own stance, causing the Joker to say, "I should probably tell you now I don't actually know karate. I just saw this in a Bruce Lee movie." With that, he lunged towards me, and the fight began.

He started with a swift downward strike, which I blocked with a batarang, kicking him backwards. He then creatively took off his shirt, after which he said, "I saw _that _in a Jean-Claude van Damme movie." I went forward, jumping and letting my foot go towards his head. He formed a cross with his arms and threw me off, making me compensate and spin, landing with a skid. The Joker said, "This is starting to get fun." I had to admit, it kind of was. I sent a hard punch to the Joker's face, with the Joker ducking at the last second and sending his elbow to my chin, knocking me back. "Well, now it's just getting boring," said the Joker. I was annoyed, and I went at him again, this time cautiously. I feinted with one fist while driving the other into his gut. He doubled over, spitting up some blood. He looked up at me and said, "I like you. You're not afraid to get dirty." His eyes squinted maliciously.

We traded blows for several minutes afterwards, with both of us ending up with bloodied faces and bruised bodies. The Joker sighed, cracked his neck vertebrae, and said, "I think this should come to an end, though it's been fun. I'll see you some other time, and I leave you with this hint…he may be useful on the field, but if captured, it isn't very good for his side…or rather, his _former _side." I had no idea what it meant, and it swirled in my brain as the Joker walked away. The thing was, he didn't tell me what he was hinting at. This left me at a loss, though it was certain that he was talking of one of his targets. I went back to the Batmobile, driving towards Wayne Manor. When I got to the Batcave and got out of the Batmobile, Dick took one look at me and said, "It sounded pretty rough. Are you doing okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, "Nothing I can't handle." Dick said, "All the same, we should get you some ice packs." "Yeah, that would help," I groaned.

As we walked in, Alfred's eyes widened and he said, "What ever happened?" I explained what had happened at Augere, and the fact that the Joker walked away in better condition than I. Alfred said, "Alright, sit down there, and Master Grayson and I'll get you some ice packs." I sat down, groaning. I didn't realize what kind of a number the Joker did until that moment. When Dick and Alfred came back, I said, "Hey, can you get me the files for all his possible targets?" "Of course, Master Wayne," said Alfred. I put an ice pack on my face while I waited. Eventually, Alfred came back with the files, and I perused them, the Joker's 'hint' in mind. All of the targets didn't match up with it, although I had a thought. An impossible thought. I said to Alfred, "Can you get me the rest of the list? You know, the list of all important people in the city?" Alfred nodded.

When Alfred got back with the list, he asked, "Why did you need all the names, Master Wayne?" "Because I just came up with an answer to the Joker's hint," I replied. I went through all the names until I came to the solution I knew, or at least thought, couldn't be what the Joker was speaking of. "This is it," I said eventually. "Why him?" said Alfred. "The hint was like the Joker was referring to chess," I said. In front of me I held a photo of Harvey Dent.


End file.
